


Of Identity and Legacy

by stonerjohnlaurens



Series: History Obliterates (The Modern Hamilton Universe) [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Burr is Trans / Peggy is Trans / Theodosia is Trans, Characters of color, Coping, Explicit Sexual Content, LGBTQ Themes, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Marijuana, Mental Illness, Multi, Non-binary character, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Swearing, The Holy Trinity!, Transgender Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5534357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerjohnlaurens/pseuds/stonerjohnlaurens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Student duo Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens have been called lots of things: Radical, belligerent, and over-sensitive are the first few that come to mind. Eventually they start their own group on campus in their sophomore year of college, but when feelings begin to develop, will their club begin to affect their relationships with their friends and between themselves?</p><p>Modern AU. College AU. Just how I like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. tough start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Hamilton has a small crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's launch ourselves into Lams hell! Woohoo!
> 
> Warnings for: Rough sex, swearing, choking.
> 
> (Please tell me if there's something you think should also be tagged.)
> 
> (Revised 1/9/2016)  
> (Warnings added 1/18/2016)

The clock already said 1:37 am. Alexander cursed quietly. He swore it was only 9:00 pm seconds ago.

He had gone overboard with his writings again, too engrossed in the topic at hand. Such a Hamilton standard. His limit was 800 words on this particular paper and at the rate he was tapping the keys, he was afraid to look at the word count in the bottom left corner of the document window.

2367\. Not life-threateningly bad. He wasn’t nearly finished with all the examples he wanted to present, though. This was for his Introduction to World Politics class, the topic on the benefits of immigration. He could go on for millennia about any topic, but this one was the closest to his heart. It’s always been relevant in America. Hell, it’s what the nation was built on. He wished it wasn’t so relevant to his own situation, but it helps with wording, definitely. I could stay up a few hours more, He thought. Shaving down 1200 words or so might be hard but if I get it done now, I can start reading for Philosophy tomorrow rather than—

His internal scheduling session was interrupted abruptly by the vibration of his cellphone near his laptop. He grabbed at it quickly, as his roommate slept soundly nearby. He looked to the bed adjacent to his desk, scanning to see any signs of Hercules stirring. Surprisingly, he stayed dormant. Alex learned the hard way that Hercules Mulligan is a very light sleeper, and that his initial reaction to being woken up is sudden and violent.

Alexander looked to his phone’s screen. Underneath the off-white “2:01,” an alarm message was displayed.

**2:00 AM: Go to sleep, _mon cochon_. You can do it tomorrow. **

Alex exhaled a bit through his nose in amusement. This gesture stemmed from one night last semester.

His friend, Lafayette, came over to study with him.

Lafayette walked in his room in the comfiest gear they could find. Their hair was arranged in a messy bun, and they wore a laced light blue gown that matched their just-as-blue slippers.

Contrarily, their friend seemed unhinged. Alex donned bloodshot eyes and the same outfit he left class in, even at 2 am. He was hunched over his laptop, feverishly typing what seemed to be a dissertation. He sipped on coffee and jittered a bit when he pressed the Enter key.

“Lafayette!! You’re here!! Just in time, too. You asked for help with the Logic homework?”

The exchange student nodded slowly, a bit frightened. “ _Oui_ …”

“Well you’re in luck! I wrote up a study guide that defines all the terms we’ve gone over so far in the semester, and I made a bunch of footnotes to…”

“When….when did you start this….” Lafayette inquired.

“When did you text me to come over?”

“I asked you at 3:00 pm, after class. Alexander, please tell me you haven’t been doing this all day…”

“Oh it’s no problem. It’s only 2:30 anyway. I’m almost done, and then I’ll email it to you so we can go over it, okay?”

“Where is Monsieur Mulligan?”

“He left a while ago, said he was gonna crash in another friend’s room. I think it’s because I mentioned we’re pulling an all-nighter.”

“On second thought,” They forced a faux yawn to entice the same from their friend. “Maybe we should cut it short, hm? _Le sommeil_ , perhaps.”

“If you’re suggesting I go to bed, Laf, I have to decline. See, 2 AM is when the blood REALLY starts flowing. I get hyper focused, sometimes I get shakes. It’s exhilarating what the body does under pressure!”

Since that night, Lafayette added an alarm to Alex’s phone. He just couldn’t believe that he was always up at 2 AM, without fail. He sighed and admitted internally that he was a bit tired. He was nowhere near behind in any of his classes. It was impossible to be; the semester had just begun. The paper he worked on tonight wasn’t even due until next Friday.

Morning came, and it was a quiet Tuesday morning on campus. The first of the spring semester. Somehow, Alex found a way to pull himself out of bed before 7 in order to get ready in time for breakfast. It was thankfully 50 degrees, pretty warm for a January morn. However, Alex’s immigrant blood betrayed him and left him shivering throughout the day.

Yorktown dining hall wasn’t far from the sophomore dorms, but it was enough of a trek to have a small conversation on the way there. Mulligan noticed his roommate beginning to leave, and he decided to go along with him. After general greetings and some yawning, the conversation turned to their French friend. It was clear Mulligan was a bit confused about them in general.

“So, explain this whole concept to me again, please? I really just don’t want to fuck up things with Gilbert.” His roommate walked next to him, taking wider strides than he. Alex grew tired of explaining LGBTQ issues to Hercules. He learned after years of constantly arguing with straight people that the entire notion is useless. However, he looked at Hercules and saw absolute, genuine unfamiliarity. He wasn’t trying to probe at Alex or make fun of anything he was saying. He was truly just ignorant. Alex admired this in his friend. He was making an actual effort to comprehend in order to continue a friendship.

“Sure, buddy.” He said in response with a smile. “Lafayette is not a man, nor are they a woman. They are non-binary, and their gender is something other than those two terms.” Hercules nodded slowly as if to say “yes, and?”

“You see a lot of people feel as if they don’t belong in the strict idea of gender,” Alex could feel himself beginning to go off on a tangent, but he knew Mulligan wouldn’t mind. He was silent, just wanting to be a good ally.

“In Lafayette’s case, they use the pronouns they, them, and theirs, because these don’t imply a gender and they can remain ambiguous in this manner. But of course, I’m not Lafayette, and I don’t know their exact thought process. You should talk to them more about that. But be that as it may, let’s go back to the gender binary. Gender is a construct built on flimsy, outdated thinking that ultimately—“

“Oi, another gender rant, this early in the morning?” The roommate pair turned to see their mutual friend, John Laurens, exuding an unusual level of ebullience for 7 am on a school day. He joined in their walk, slipping his way between the two.

“Hi, John.” Mulligan winces. “Yeah…I think it’s only fair since I’m starting my first Gender Studies class today.”

“Oh, I love Gender Studies.” John said. “I love anything activist-wise, to be honest.” Alex nodded, observing John’s shirt. It was a black one, decorated with the ominous declaration ‘[No Justice, No Peace](http://www.redbubble.com/people/sayers/works/13260920-no-justice-no-peace-i-cant-breathe?grid_pos=122&p=mens-graphic-t-shirt).’ He envied every piece of clothing in John’s wardrobe. Not only because they were exceedingly fashionable, but also because they spent a majority of their time on John.

“I don’t mean to drone on this time, Laurens.” Alex replied self-consciously. He knew he talked a bit too much, but he really couldn’t help it. “Mulligan asked about things gender-wise because of, you know, Lafayette’s recent confession.”

John made a noise to solidify his approval. He clapped a hand on both his friends’ shoulders, pulling them in for an awkward squeeze-type hug-thing. “I’m so happy to be back on campus. I’m so happy to have friends like y’all.”

“Y’all? Goodness, John, your time in South Carolina is showing.” Mulligan laughed.

“There’s not a South Carolinian bone in my body.” He asserted sternly, yet not unkindly. Alex admired that about John, among other things. He too wanted to separate from his origins, despite his immigrant pride. He simply wished to make it in America and make it a better place, no questions asked about his birthplace.

The three sauntered into the dining hall, grabbed and paid for their meals, and piled at their usual table. Lafayette strolled in at around 7:30.

“ _Bonjour, amis_!” They had a sing-song demeanor to them, one that forced a weary smile out of Hercules. Lafayette turned to Alex, who waved wearily.

“Ah, did you see my alarm message, _mon cochon_?” They planted a soft kiss on his cheek and he stuttered out a giggle.

“ _Oui oui, merci. Je l'ai dormi la nuit dernière._ ” Alex laughed as Lafayette leaned down into a soft lip-to-lip peck with their friend.

“Cochon…?” Mulligan appeared wounded. He looked to John and he shrugged back. Alex noticed the look of misperception on Mulligan’s face.

“It only means pig.”

“Pig? Why?” John asked.

“You all are always calling him Ham,” Lafayette said softly. “Alexander explained why later, but by then the name stuck.”

Laughter erupted from the table and Lafayette blushed a bit. Alex patted Lafayette’s leg and they sat in the seat between he and Mulligan. “I’m glad I got up for breakfast today.” John remarked as he rose from his seat. “I have to go now, though. I have stats at 8:30.”

“Gross.” Alex quipped, resulting in a small snort from Lafayette. They bonded over the fact that they did not intend on majoring in anything STEM related. They didn’t know exactly what their majors were yet, but math and science were definitely out of the question. The standing Marine Biology major moved his in a way as if to agree.

“I’ll see you guys later. Alexander, I guess I’ll see you at EveryHue’s thing tonight?”

“Oh, that is tonight! I’ll definitely be there.” He paused. “In fact, why don’t you just come by my room after your classes today? Yours are over at 2:00, right? I should be in there. I haven’t really finished everything I need to do.”

“Alexander, I’m surprised at you. You’re usually so on top of things. But sure.” He grinned and turned to go put up his plate. Soon after, he walked out of the dining hall doors.

“Oh my good God, did I give too much away?” Hamilton spoke as if he had a cork over his mouth for the earlier parts of the conversation and it was finally removed.

“I don’t think so. You were pretty calm for most of that, I think. I could barely tell, _mon cochon_.”

“ _Merci_. Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a lovely specimen in my life.”

“Wait. Slow down,” Mulligan was rubbing his temples rhythmically. “First off, what’s EveryHue?”

“It’s the club for people like us,” Lafayette gestured to himself and Hamilton. “And not people like you. I mean, you could come for support I guess. But it’s mainly for the queers.”

“I see.”

“Yeah, the ones of color.” Alex rubbed Lafayette’s back in circles appreciatively and continued. “We’re too often ignored by the mainstream. We argued with the main LGBTQ club so much we ended up separating to form one that’s a bit more…radical.”

“Which is exactly why John and Alex are on _le conseil exécutif_.”

Alex beamed at the mention of the French phrase. He was truly so proud to be on the executive board of a group so important to him, a founding member even. He was even prouder to be on the board with John. John appeared to many as collected and mild-mannered. He seemed to be Alex’s foil, the one to balance Alex’s drastic ideology and somewhat baffling activism. However, the contrary was true. John was actually just as if not more willing to bleed for what he believed in. There have even been moments where Alex actually had to forcibly stop John from doing protests too dangerous. He admired that about John so much, and every day he got to discuss social issues with him was the best day ever in his book.

“That sounds right up your alley, Alex, how’d you get behind? When I went to bed last night, you were still up typing.” Mulligan was honestly stumped.

“That’s the point, Monsieur Mulligan. He’s all done. Alex finished it over the break.” Lafayette giggled with Alex like a pair of middle school children.

“Then wh—“ Mulligan squinted, and then his eyelids flew up in realization. He gasped. “You have a crush on John!”

“Hercules, am I just talking to myself late-night in our dorm room?”

“Yes.”

Alex huffed exasperatedly. “Yes, Hercules. I’ve had a crush on John for a while now. It’s not news. I’m pretty sure I’ve told you about it before…”

“Ohhhhh. I see now. Alright. Well I’ll avoid the room then.”

“We won’t do anything…” He coughed nervously. “…particularly inappropriate. I just want him to proofread our group’s mission statement, maybe talk to me about classes…”

“Suck you off?”

“Lafayette!” Their friends both yelped in unison. The exchange student was already guffawing wildly. Alex was beet red.

“Look, I trust you, but I’m gonna go read in the library this afternoon anyway. I get out of class at 2:50 so don’t text me or anything like that.” Alex nodded, understanding that Hercules hated getting text messages in class. “I’ll be back at…what time is that EveryHue thing?”

“7:30 tonight. I promise, we’ll be gone way before then. I just want to flirt a bit with John and talk with him about…anything really..” He swooned. “He has the most beautiful mind. Such eloquence with words. And such a voice.”

“Save it for your twitter, Al. Or your diary.” Mulligan laughed and shook his head.

The group dwindled down discussion and went their separate ways soon after this exchange. Alex stopped back by his room to grab his materials and proceeded to begin his school day.

9:30 am-10:50 pm: Constitutional Law

11:30 am-12:45 pm: Studies of Afro-Caribbean Immigration

1:00 pm-1:50 pm: African American History

It was a full day. Thankfully, as advised by Lafayette, Alex now toted a digital planner with him along with his paper one. He cringed thinking about how he had dropped his first (and only at the time) in a puddle and lost so many notes and important dates in his first semester of college. Rookie mistake, he thought. He was prepared this year for sure. He already had stellar notes. 

But now wasn’t the time to think of school. It was time to think about John. He needed to make it back to his dorm in 10 minutes or risk missing him.

Alex walked from the historic Ticonderoga Lecture Hall along the path towards his hall. On his way there, he passed a familiar face.

“Alexander Hamilton.” The fellow student sneered.

“Aaron Burr.” He hissed back. “…Sir.”

There was a moment of tension and intense eye-contact. Alex broke the eye contact first and burst out laughing, Aaron following soon after. They high-fived and had a quick embrace before speaking again.

“How are you doing, Ham? Got in any fights yet?” Aaron’s expression was now the polar opposite of what he entered the chat with. He appeared open and happy, very glad to see his old friend.

“Not face-to-face.” He admitted. “But that Jefferson kid is asking for a Twitter beatdown for the bullshit he says about the current presidential election.”

“Oh, Alexander, You’re so funny. We must talk sometime soon. Maybe we’ll be in a club together this semester.” Aaron waved goodbye and ambled in the opposite direction of the dorms, leaving with a heartfelt “Text me, okay?”

Alex smiled slightly. He fully intended on texting him, too.

It was 2:13 by the time Alex got into his room. He expected to have to spew apologizes upon apologizes to his friend waiting by the door, but Laurens wasn’t around. He began to worry, but he stifled the urge to text him. He instead reclined in his extra-long twin bed and waited.

Alex wasn't 100% honest with his friends. He did have a crush on John Laurens, that was nowhere near a fib. But he did act a bit more innocent than his true nature. 

40 minutes go by. He’s only mildly annoyed. And by that, of course it translates to _fucking pissed_.

In his frustration, he’s wrote three Twitter rants (two subtweeting Jefferson), a tumblr post reviewing the diversity factor of the newest Star Wars movie, and a short fanfiction about Poe and Finn from said movie (it’s only somewhat self-indulgent. It’s only a coincidence that Poe has freckles in it and he has a thing for space biology. Pure coincidence. No application to his situation whatsoever. He posts it anonymously.)

There’s a knock at the door. Alex groaned. Mulligan was back already, most likely to grab a book he left. Then he would linger and his plan to chill with John would be ruined. Damn that John Laurens.

He opens the door and begins to complain, but it’s actually John. Finally!

“Where have you fucking been?!” Alex explodes. “You’re 58 minutes late!”

“I could’ve sworn you said 3:00, I’m sorry, Alexander.” He said. “My classes ended at 2:00 last semester. I was so impressed you knew my schedule so fast. I knew it was a bit too coincidental. I’m sorry again. I was hoping to surprise you and show you my professor let us out early. I was gonna check if Mulligan was in first and wait for you outside.”

Now Alex felt like a dumbass. “Sorry for blowing up at you. I should’ve trusted you, John Laurens.”

He allowed his friend to walk inside the room. John’s curly ponytail bobbed behind him, echoing his jovial gait. He stopped mid room and looked back to Alex, who stood in the doorway, just watching him.

“Also, don’t you think Herc would’ve just used his key? I mean, this is his room too.”

Now Alex really felt like a dumbass, assuming things. He closed and locked the door behind him. Apologies began forming in his mouth but they were swallowed down when their eyes met again. John was here now. That was the only thing that mattered.

”So…” John appeared out of place and plopped down onto the edge of the standing boy’s bed. Alex followed suit. He made sure to leave a bit of space between them. They entered a bit of a staring contest; Alexander transfixed in awe and John befuddled by his friend’s motives.

Alex could feel himself getting lost in those damned freckles he loved so much. His brown curls that framed his face were so mesmerizing, and his eyes, those _fucking eyes._ How was he ever so lucky to exist on the same timeline as this masterpiece before him?

John must’ve grown tired of Alex’s noiseless staring as he scooted closer, closing the space between them. Alex could feel the blush sailing across his face. Their noses were nearly touching.

John whispered: “I know you already finished the stuff for tonight.”

Alex shifted back nervously at the accusation, emitting a soft “whaaaat? no.” John put an arm around him to prevent him from moving too far.

“Alexander, we’ve been friends for a long time. I know you get everything done weeks in advance. You had since last semester to update the information for EveryHue. Plus you adore EveryHue. You can’t fool me.”

“Okay, you caught me.” Alex said without any other real choice. He anxiously played with a section of his hair. This was one of the few days he didn’t bound it with a hair tie. John noticed this nervous tendency of his and cupped the hand behind Alex over his fidgeting hand. He held it tenderly and guided it down the curvature of his head, lightly dragging their hands over the smooth follicles, as if petting a delicate animal.

“Shhh…” John whispered. Alex was comforted by John’s confidence. “Just tell me what it is you really intended for us to do for nearly four, sorry, five hours in here while your roommate was away.”

Alex’s voice was caught in his throat. How was he supposed to put his intentions? It was a bit sleazy sounding now that he thought about it. But God, if he didn’t enjoy the situation at hand. He could stay like this, in the arms of _John Fucking Laurens_ for centuries without one complaint.

“I wanted…to talk to you about…: His voice trailed off. He didn’t anticipate getting this far with John this quickly. Being suddenly seduced was not part of the plan.

“Alexander, do you remember that one night in October? That Halloween party?"

He'd be lying if he said he didn't. "Yes."

"See, this is my hypothesis." John's hand wandered through his hair some more. Alex was literal putty in his hands. He lowered his mouth to his ear and lowered his voice. "I think that you want to continue something like that into this semester. Is that true?"

"I didn't know how to ask." Alex whimpered after a moment of hesitation.

"I thought we promised we'd stop that back in December but...Is that why you really invited me over here?" 

Alex thought he was blushing hard before at breakfast, but that instance was in no comparison with his face now. He attempted to compose himself by regulating his breathing. “Yes.” He finally replied enthusiastically. 

"You're too much, Alexander. You could've just asked."

John chuckled at Alex’s eagerness and pulled in his face for a kiss. It differed a lot from the one he shared with Lafayette this morning.

They separated faces, giggled in embarrassment, and went in for another. More giggling.

"So we're just going to do this now, Laurens?" Alexander looked giddy. John backed up a bit. 

"Tell me if anything goes too far, okay? We'll stop." Alex leaned in for another kiss, and then another. He grazed his tongue over his crush's lips, and John welcomed it. 

The kisses seemed to go on for ages. They grew hungrier, deeper, and much more lustful. They ended up near the head of Alex’s bed, dragging wrinkled sheets underneath them.

One oddity about the university the two attended was the lack of headboards on the dorm beds. Usually, Alex dreaded this as he bumped his head sometimes as he tossed and turned. But today, John Laurens used the wall to his advantage, using it to hold Alex’s body upright. John's held Alex's jaw steadily, He was already falling apart from the over-stimulation of his senses, moaning into John’s mouth so ravenously.

John dropped his mouth from Alex’s lips to his neck. Squeals filled the air hanging around them. John sucked multiple love bites into his lover’s skin. His hands traveled slowly under Alex’s shirt.

“Yes yes, please please don’t stop…” Alex managed while John kneaded at his nipple. The combined sensations were almost too much. He could feel John’s grin in his neck. He descended his body even more so, now toying with the other nipple with his tongue.

Alex slumped down onto the bed so he was lying directly under John, and he wrapped his clothed legs around his sides. John didn’t let up, and Alex became increasingly desperate. He started to grind his groin into John, willing to settle for any friction at this point. John understood the hint and helped Alex out of his pants. He got off of Alex and removed his own as well. Beneath was a sweaty mess formally referred to as Hamilton, panting frantically in a sea of crinkled bedding. He could barely believe how worked up John got him so quickly. 

They were now pants-less, kiss-covered, and glistening with sweat. John knelt down as if he was going to leave more hickeys on Alex's neck, but he stopped centimeters from his skin. Alexander grunted in frustration. Their groins touched, only separated by the cloth of their boxers.

"How far do you want to go?" John asked, the tantalizing warmth of his breath arousing Alex further. 

Alex looked up at John, aiming his wide-eyed stare into the latter's. "Laurens. I want you to fuck me."

John's mouth dropped open in shock as if he just watched someone get shot. Alex felt his dick twitch over his own.

"Okay." He mumbled. "Okay, okay, okay..." He seemed startled. Alex held his stance. He wanted this for so long. He gestured to his nightside table, where John located his stash of lube and condoms. He tossed his own boxers to the hardwood beneath the bed, rolled a condom on, and pulled down Alex's boxers. Alex exhaled loudly and tossed his head back, muttering a curse under his breath. John pressed his mouth to the side of his dick and softly kissed it. He peered up to look at it's head, already glossed with precum, and teased the hole lightly with his thumb. Some of the liquid dripped onto Alex's shirt that he didn't bother taking off. He groaned with impatience. He swatted John's thumb away and begged for John to prep his ass already.

"Laurens." He growled through grinding teeth. "You know what I mean. Stop teasing."

"Oh, but you're so fun like this..." John did oblige, though, smearing a copious amount of lubricant on himself and Alex's hole.

He messily shoved his cock into Alexander, pushing a loud moan out of the man on the bottom. It started with slow pushes and pulls, pushes, pulls, pushes, pushes, _pushes--_

"Jesus, _fuck_ , Alex." Alexander was truly enjoying himself, letting himself be completely taken over by his friend. He put on quite a show as well, fucking upward into his fist.

They probably had some sort of rhythm going on at some point, maybe. It didn't matter anymore; John's thrusts were now completely erratic. One hand gripped Alexander's hip nearly breaking his skin from his finger nails. The other was grabbing at any of Alexander's hair that he could grasp at from his position. He was practically ripping the locks from his scalp. Soft swears turned into rough grunting. How either of the lasted longer than five minutes was beyond Alex's wildest imaginations.

Alex felt himself beginning to edge. He hopelessly blubbered his friend's name. With the hand not jerking his dick, he cupped his own throat.

John breathed out sharply and brought his hand from Alex's hair to his throat, and Alex dropped his to finish himself off. So much for not knowing how to ask.

The hand clenched around his neck, hard. Alex impulsively began to scream, but could only gasp under the weight of the choke. He came wildly over both he and John's shirts. 

Ecstasy.

Pure ecstasy.

Numbness.

Black.

When he came to, Alexander was drenched in a combination of sweat, tears, cum, and sin.

He turned to the small table near his bed, reached for his phone. It was 6:34. He had a few unread messages.

**Mulligan:** Hey I came by for my books earlier but I heard snoring so I didn't bother okay? lol

**Mulligan:** Text me when you guys leave though...I do want to bed at some point

**Mulligan:** *go to bed

**Mulligan:** but if you think he'll sleep over I can just chill with Lafayette, I don't think they'll mind

The encounter had lasted only around 10 minutes, yet here they were, still sleeping.

He went to the bathroom to investigate the damage done and to see how to reverse it. There was no way he planned to miss the first meeting of a club he helped create. 

The hickeys on his neck had bruised, leaving a solar system of blues, purples and burgundies. But this was the least noticeable aspect of him; The marks were no competition for the deep pink palm imprint that he donned like a necklace. He winced. He only had an hour to get this all covered up, shower, and wake John up to do the same.

He let out a defeated sigh and dragged himself to his laptop. He sent out an email to every student who signed up for EveryHue's notifications to tell them that the first meeting was postponed for next Tuesday, same time. He shut the personal computer and got back up to text Hercules back.

**Hamilton:** Could you chill with Laf? I don't think John's leaving anytime soon. 

**Mulligan:** Sure :) I'll just stay over, k?

**Hamilton:** you're the literal best 

How grateful he was for his understanding roommate. Alex took off his dirty shirt and plopped it into the hamper in his closet. He crawled back into John's embrace. 

John Laurens did not love Alexander Hamilton. He knew that. Even here, in his arms, covered in his cum, he knew this. He knew he never really would.

The Halloween party last year was a fluke resulting from drinking and party drugs. John had commented on how gorgeous Hamilton's body was. How silky his hair was. How beautiful he looked taking him into his mouth in the closet of James Madison's house when they were dared to play seven minutes of heaven. Neither intended to tipsily make it back to John's solo dorm and spend the remainder of the night exploring each other. Neither intended to discover their mutual inclination to prefer rough sex. Neither intended to carry on sexual rendezvouses through the remainder of the year. 

But beyond all, Alexander Hamilton didn't intend to develop feelings for his fuckbuddy.

He was impressed with himself, how well he was keeping it from Lafayette and Mulligan. Neither friend knew that Laurens fucked the absolute shit out him on a regular basis. But he only recently began developing feelings past physical desire. It was back in December, when John had pitched the idea of EveryHue to the student organization board. The pure passion he exhibited, the energy he exuded, it was beyond a fuckable trait to Alex. He started crushing hard from that day on, and the day he was asked to join the board with him, he knew it wasn't something he was going to shake anytime soon.

He didn't really know what he wanted from John Laurens when he requested he come over prior to EveryHue's meeting. He just knew it was beyond what he received. If he just wanted to have sex, he wouldn't have been reserved about it in any fashion. He knew how to make a booty call. He was familiar with the practice. But how do you just call someone up and invite them to love you? It can't be forced, and Alexander didn't want it if it had to be.

He should've told Laurens his internal conflict and this whole thing would've been settled so much sooner. But those hands. Those freckles. Those eyes. Why did he have to set his sights on someone so irresistible?

He really didn't know what to think at that point. But he pushed the thought to the back on his mind and turned his attention back to John, deep in slumber induced by mind-numbing bliss. He closed his eyes again and tried to go back to sleep, back to the black, back to where he didn't need to think much anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Hills by the Weeknd plays in the distance*
> 
> Follow me on tumblr (@officialberrypunch), on my hamilton tumblr (@actualjohnlaurens), or on twitter (@gayjohnlaurens)! Don't let me forget about this series.
> 
> Also I've never seen a Star Wars movie in my life.


	2. bad news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up to the aftermath of the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I got another chapter out already!! Whooo! Hamilton is fun to write about.

How John’s circadian rhythm persistently had him up at 6 am every morning was beyond him.

 

It wasn’t like he made much of an effort to keep up his Morning Person reputation. This night, this little meeting with Alexander, that was the first time he went to bed prior to 2:00 am. Somehow he always got up, naturally, at 6:00 am. The most he’s ever been off is around three minutes either prior or over.

 

Wait. Shit. Alexander. That happened. Again. 

 

He swung his legs off of the bed slowly to not disturb his friend deep in slumber. No pants or underwear. His shirt had a disgustingly crusty stain on it. A quick glance to the ground revealed his pants, his underwear, and a leaky condom. A  _ leaky, used, un-disposed condom.  _ Christ above, it did happen again. And they were really, really sloppy about it.

 

_ Herc isn’t here though,  _ He noted.  _ That’s good.  _

 

John stumbled groggily to Alex and Herc’s bathroom. He could punch the mirror before him he was so irritated. His hair was fucked right out of it’s normally neat ponytail. He had a small hickey on his neck. Worst of all, his favorite shirt was ruined and smelled horrible. He stripped himself of the stained garment and tossed it into Alexander’s hamper, tucked neatly in his closet. Being butt naked in his best friend’s room at 6-fucking-am wasn’t how he pictured his second semester starting. It’d be a bit concerning if it was. 

 

However, John did find the situation a bit self-esteem boosting, in a really fucked up way. John wasn’t the biggest guy in the world. Sure, he was pretty fit in comparison to some of his peers and he had some mass on him, but he was only 5’ 10”. He got mistaken for a freshman on many occasions. His father refused to fund his “yankee, backwards, yuppie” education, leaving the Southern-born Marine Biology major to his own devices. He knew from the beginning that he wanted a single dorm. A roommate was too much stress, and he didn’t intend on ever having one. The only affordable single in the capitalist cesspool of King’s College was located in the “freshman only” dormitory. It wasn’t actually freshman only; there were a few upperclassmen who lived on the first floor (example: John Laurens). Watching his friends Hercules (6’ 4”) and Lafayette (6’ 5”) walk him to the designated freshman dorm was humbling to say the least.

 

This is where Alexander came in. Alex was a puny 5’ 7”, and a sophomore due to his whizzing through high school. To have this relatively tiny man succumb to his touch was a big ego stroke. When they would meet in Alex’s room it would be pure euphoria to take the walk of shame from his room on the top floor of the usually-sophomore dormitory down to the dingy (yet significantly larger) freshmen one. Sometimes, when he felt especially douchey, he’d walk shirtless and use the stairs to leave rather than the elevator. It was a sick mindset, but one that never failed to give him an addictive rush.

 

And that’s the exact adjective to describe the acts he and Alexander did: addictive. A word with a poor connotation because that’s exactly what it was, a poor decision. He knew he had to stop. He knew that Alexander knew. A friends-with-benefits relationship was not one that either of them needed right now, nor ever. Not when they had EveryHue to run, or classes to go to. Not when John wasn’t completely out to his family (his sisters knew, but his dad could  **never fucking know** ). Not when Alexander Hamilton, known chatterbox and flamboyantly bisexual activist, had the same set of mutual friends and the guilt that ate away at him was beginning to show in the strain in their friendship.

 

That’s future John’s problem, though.

 

Today, John had classes. His first one being at 10:00 am. He knew Alex would be up in an hour or so. Breakfast ended at 9:00 and Alexander was not one to miss the most important meal of the day. He had to get back to the freshman dorm to get his stuff. Alexander wouldn’t mind if he took some of his clothes to get back, right? Just a shirt, that’s all he needed. 

 

A nude John swiped a handful of shirts and laid them out on Hercules’ empty bed. Just because he needed a shirt didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be choosy. He needed something that looked like what he would wear, his brand.

 

He was so close to finally settling on a particularly humorous graphic tee when there was a knock at the door.

 

Fuck.

 

He froze completely, hoping the knocker would assume the roommate pair was still asleep. Or out. Or  _ something.  _

 

“Alexander?” called a sweet, yet commanding voice. 

 

_ Is that...Peggy??? _

 

“Alexander???” 

 

_ What does Peggy want with Alexander at 6:00 am on a Wedne-- _

 

“ALEXANDER HAMILTON, I know damn well you’re not sleeping, answer the fucking door!”

 

_ Oh. Wrong sister. _

 

John scrambled to put on any shirt he laid out and dove for his pants. He made sure the door wasn’t locked, opened the door quietly and stepped outside.

 

“John?”

 

“Good morning, Angie. You look lovely as always.”

 

“What are you doing at Alexander and Hercules’ room at 6:15?”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Angelica folded her arms. She did not appreciate the derailment.

 

“Answer.”

 

“Well see--”

 

“Because there better be a good fuckin’ reason,” She held out her iPhone to him. “I got THIS email about the first meeting of EveryHue getting postponed LESS THAN A HOUR before. A good fuckin’ excuse, John.”

 

His eyes lit up. Alexander Hamilton, you beautiful, glorious genius.

 

“Oh, he didn’t put it in the email?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door confidently. John had a believable facade on his face that spoke true disbelief. “Yeah, we saw some discrepancies in the club constitution. There were some conflicts with it and our mission statement. Weird, right? And you know, Alexander, he loves to write…” His lie trailed off into a forced laugh. 

 

Angelica’s cold stare didn’t falter.

 

“We got a bit carried away. I must’ve nodded off. Sorry for the late notice. I know that’s pretty shitty, y’know, you being an exec member too and all.” He dropped his hands and shoved them into his jean pockets. “But while you’re here maybe we could discuss the first meeting, and how--”

 

“Oh my god.” Angelica blurted out. “You’re fucking him.”

 

John didn’t know what the shit he thought Angelica would respond with, but that was nowhere near it. He swallowed sternly.

 

“Wh-what? That’s crazy. We were just--”

 

“John.” She said curtly with a smile. She was so smart,  _ so  _ intimidating. “I bought him that shirt.”

 

When he put his hands to his side, John didn’t realize he was putting his outfit on full display. He looked down. He was, indeed, wearing a shirt that Angelica had gave to Alexander. It was an  [ Occupy Paris ](http://www.redbubble.com/people/atticaattica/works/11307559-occupy-paris?grid_pos=43&p=t-shirt) shirt, surely alluding to his consideration of majoring in History.

 

He was there when he got it.  _ He was fucking there _ . It was his 18th birthday. What the  _ fuck _ Laurens?

 

John brought his hands up to his flushed face and groaned, knowing he couldn't hide from her anymore. She only replied with humiliating, ego-shattering laughter. The sound equivalent of “God, you’re embarrassing.” He gestured for her to lower her voice, and he did the same.

 

“Okay. Maybe we’ve screwed a few times.”  _ What an understatement. Why are you still lying to her?  _ “But what’s the harm? I mean, we’re both single, everything is consensual, why are y--”

 

“The harm is that you’re clearly distracting each other from important shit, like this EveryHue shit!” She yelled, or whatever the whispering equivalent to yelling is. “John, this is my third year at this fuckass school and I’m not exaggerating when I say this is the most disorganized club I’ve seen here. And I used to fuck a guy in the Chess Club.”

 

“Ouch.”

 

“Everybody knows it, too. They talk about it everywhere, ESPECIALLY YikYak. Do you know how influential YikYak is getting on college campuses? People on YikYak are constantly griping about the ‘annoying ass freshmen’ starting another gay group. I worked too hard to get to the social status and the level of respect I’m at to watch it be ripped apart by an anonymous face I can’t punch.”

 

“We’re not ALL freshmen…”

 

“AND THAT’S ANOTHER THING! Freshmen aren’t even supposed to serve on executive boards! Why is Burr on the board?!”

 

“Burr is really bright, Ang. Plus he’s trans and he does his work on time. He’s a phenomenal Trans Chair. He was one of the only one’s who signed up besides YOUR younger sister, the one who rarely shows up to meetings and--”

 

“Keep Peggy out of this!” She nearly screamed. She cupped over her mouth soon after though, remembering how early it was. John flinched from the sudden noise, and Angelica took a second to do a quick breathing exercise. 

 

“Look, fuck your friend. Fuck yourself. Fuck a turtle for all I care.” She spat dismissively. Her phone was shoved into his face once again. “But do NOT let it get in the way of THIS. This is important, John. One of the best ideas I’ve seen on this mayonnaise-whipped campus. This’ll really help queer youth of color.” 

 

John looked to the hallway carpeting. He didn’t intend on letting a hobby of his cross paths with something he really felt passion for. The guilt spiked again deep in his gut. She had to grab his face in order for their eyes to meet again.

 

“Another thing, John. I’ve done the whole ‘dating within the friend group thing.’ Dude, it’s just not gonna work.”

 

“Oh, I don’t…” He shuffled. “We don’t...we don’t date. We just…” Nervous cough. She rolled her eyes.

 

“Jesus fist me with George Washington’s glove, are you kidding me? This just keeps getting better and better.” She began to walk away. “Tell Alexander he needs to wake up.” Her voice started to fade through the hall. Then she called back: “In more ways than one!” 

  
  


He slid along the door to the floor and sat dumbfounded like the piece of shit he was.  _ Great.  _ He thought.  _ Now two people know.  _

 

A short, quick vibration snapped him out of his self-loathing. He fished into his back pocket and pulled out his cellphone. Somehow his body knew to grab it in his rush out of Alex’s room.

 

His phone was full of messages, the latest being one from an unknown number. He recognized Alex’s email notification, and the rest were from friends.

 

**Laf** : i think i just caught herc checking me out lol

**Laf** : hes in the bathroom rn but he walked in and i’m wearin a dress

**Laf** : u know the green one with the lace

**Laf** : and he was like uhhh hey i need to use the bathroom

**Laf** : WHAT IF HE ISN’T STR8

**Laf** : omg john please please reply he flushed he’s coming back out here

Laf: !!!!!!!!!!!

**Laf** : !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JOHN !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  
  


**Herc** : Is it gay to think Lafayette looks good in a dress??

**Herc** : b/c you know they’re not a dude and not a girl but like ???

**Herc** : I would’ve just texted Ham but you’re gay so i thought maybe like you’d know more about it

**Herc** : you know i’m glad you’re not responding because i’m realizing how fucking dumb i sound

**Herc** : wAIT you’re with Ham i forgot i’m sorry!!

 

**Angie** : EveryHue?? Cancelled????

**Angie** : When were you guys going to tell me??

 

**Burr** : Is the new meeting still in the student center?

 

**Laf** : IM PRETTY SURE HERCULES ISN’T STR8 JOHN

**Laf** : he’s staying over and my roommate hasn’t come back yet so theres a free bed but he still wanted to stay on my bed?? with me?? in it??????

**Laf** : i mean i’m under the cover and hes over but still

**Laf** : he also told me my dress was “magnific”

**Laf** : he legit pronounced magnifique like that i about died

**Laf** : alright i see the eh meeting was cancelled so idk why ur not replying now but w/e

 

**Baby girl** : Okay, so you’re not awake yet but I do think we should really talk about this whole arrangement sooner or later. I emailed the whole club saying that the meeting is postponed because I don’t think you’re getting up any time soon and even if you did everything isn't gonna be done in time for the meeting. I’m gonna go back to sleep and if you wake up before me could you make sure the alarm on my table wakes me up at 8? I double checked it but I could always be wrong. Also could you throw out the condom on the ground? It’s kinda disgusting and I really don’t want Mulligan seeing that. Another thing: I turned off the alarm that Lafayette puts on my phone every night but like I said before I could always be wrong so could you make sure it’s definitely off? I really do appreciate it. I also really appreciate the whole sex thing, but I do still think we should discuss it.

 

**(unknown)** : guess who transferred to kings college?

 

How ominous. He knew the person texting intended on the message being a cute little guessing game, but John had literally no clue who was texting him, nor how they got his number.

 

**John** : who???

 

He anxiously waited for a response, banishing all other concerns to the back of his mind. Another quick vibration.

 

**(unknown)** : [IMG.097 attached]

**(unknown)** : me silly!! :)

 

John retched in fear. Staring back at him from the illuminated screen was no other than Martha Manning.  _ Martha Fucking Manning.  _ He hoped that she would've deleted his number back, but no. Here she was. On his phone.  She proudly wore a Kings’ College sweatshirt and smiled almost eerily into the camera. The picture was completed by her signature “peace sign over the eye” pose. My god, she’s the the exact same. Nothing’s changed about the girl since high school. She might have the exact same haircut.

 

He recognized the building she took the selfie by. The sophomore dorms.

 

She was already here.

 

This was it. This had to be some fucked up reality show or some kind of elaborate joke. The final boss battle of his sophomore year. Angelica Schuyler, the campus gossip, knew that he and Alexander Hamilton, a member of his appointed executive board, were having a secret sexual relationship. He himself, a repeated offender, was right back on the Alexander fuck wagon after promising himself he wouldn’t be. Martha Manning, his high school sweetheart by force, was now going to his college. The college of his dreams was now intruded by the most annoying girl he ever met. One who, by the way, he didn’t tell he was gay. Their break up was short and out of the blue, right when he got the acceptance letter. He had simply told her the distance wouldn’t work out. She cried for weeks, swearing up and down she could find a way to make it work. And now distance wasn’t a factor. 

 

He cursed and purposefully hit the back of his head to the door. It opened and he began to fall back a little. Alexander was awake, an hour or so before he intended.

 

“Is there something wrong, John?” 

 

John buried his face in his hands and groaned: “My favorite shirt is ruined.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, MajorMinor, for letting me talk with you about alternate universe headcanons about the founding fathers.
> 
> My poor, poor, angsty gays.


	3. mixed feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander realizes the first step to realizing you have a problem is admitting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason this one is 3 days late (I originally planned for this one to post on NYE) is because I changed the entire course of the story. I originally planned to go through the entire story with at least one chapter from the POV of EVERY character listed in the tags, but I decided that since this is a Lams fic I'm gonna keep it between John and Alexander.
> 
> This is relatively short and I apologize! But I'm working fast, no?
> 
> The other chapters I wrote from other people's points of view will be posted of course, at some point. But not in this fic.
> 
> General warning for some shit about hypersexuality and self-loathing.

“Sorry about the shirt.” Alex whispered. “I’m headed to breakfast. Drop your shirt in the hamper before you let yourself out.” It was hard to be so cold to John, especially when he didn't mean it, but he knew it was necessary.

 

“I did, and I changed into one of your shirts.” John hadn’t sat up, he appeared to just accept that he fell in the doorway.

 

Alex began to step over him and scurry away, desperate to escape the yearning he had to smooch all over John’s stupid, adorable face. He was stopped before he could even venture down the hall.

 

“Alexander,” John called.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I saw your text. From last night. We should talk. How’s today after classes?”

 

“Yes, in public.” He blurted, overlapping sentences with him. “I mean...what about that cafe right off of campus?”

 

“Chesapeake Bar? Sure. I love their cheese fries.”

 

“Good. See you at around 3:15.”

 

  


11:30 am - 12:45 pm: Latin 301

 

2:00 pm - 2:50 pm: Introduction to World Politics

  


 

Burr was in Alexander's Latin class. How did he miss that on Monday?

 

“The language of lawyers.” Burr said, nudging Alexander before the lecture started. They sat next to each other because why wouldn’t best friends sit next to each other?

 

“It’s the excuse I have to use when explaining why I take a ‘dead’ language rather than French or Spanish or something.” Alexander murmured.

 

“ _N'êtes-vous pas déjà couramment dans...les deux_?” Aaron sputtered out. It was obvious he hadn’t taken a French class in quite some time. He wasn’t perfect at the language but he dug deep in his memory to manage an alternate tongue with Alexander. Alexander admired the sentiment, smirking at the freshman’s butchered accent.

 

“ _Si_ ,” The professor strolled into the room, book in hand. “ _Et...oui_.” He finished the phrase with a giggle. Aaron seemed stunned with Alexander; He did truly know three languages fluently yet he still went for Latin. Aaron couldn’t match Alex’s bewilderment though. Here he was, Aaron Burr, in a level 300 language class in his freshman year of college. Alex had his upbringing to thank for his polyglot status, but Aaron just got it through hard work and dedication.

 

Once the teacher began his preaching, Alexander and Burr went to text messaging.

 

 **Mr. Burr, Sir!** : Seriously though, how’d you do it? And why not just take a language you know?

 **Hamilton** : Why, where’s the learning opportunity in that, Burr?

 **Hamilton** : Also, enough about me. How about you? You did credits in high school or something?

 

He was clearly deflecting the conversation from his life before college. He was proud, very proud, of being an immigrant, but he didn’t want to think about too much.

 

 **Mr. Burr, Sir**!: Yeeeeah. I was a real geek last year, as soon as I realized I wanted to be a lawyer. I was in an AP Latin class, and I somehow got a perfect score on the exam lol

 **Mr. Burr, Sir!** : Then when I was applying here, I took the placement exam and tested out of 201, so they put me in 301 for my first semester of college

 

Hamilton looked to Aaron in awe as if to say _really?_ Aaron nodded humbly. He really did like this kid.

 

The last glance he took towards Aaron, his eyes were met with Aaron taking notes diligently with a goofy smile upon his face. His phone was facing up and Alex could make out a single notification on his screen. He had one new message from someone labelled “<3.”

  
  
  


Alex made the trek to the off campus apartments to apologize profusely to Angelica between classes. She initially slapped him, but then her eyes soften, and she became the one apologizing. He shook his head with a small grin as if to say _No, this is exactly what I need right now._

 

“Sorry, Alexander.” She said sternly. “I really shouldn’t have done that. Especially so close to your birthday!!”

 

He cringed. It was January, wasn’t it?

 

“It’s on Monday, right? Oh, you didn’t think I’d forget, did you?”

 

He adjusted his scarf to make sure it was indeed still covering his neck. “I was hoping.”

 

 

He sent out another email to all EveryHue members at lunch. This one was much more detailed, less rushed than the one before. He added that ‘The postponed meeting will be in the student center as previously promised, room 213’ for Burr; He had a text from him concerning the location that morning.

 

An impatient member that he didn’t know personally shot a quick reply back: “Please remove me from the mailing list. I don’t want to be in this club anymore.” He defeatedly shut his laptop.

 

There were still other members, of course. Why, he sat with 3 of them right here at the table.

 

Lafayette, John, and Eliza looked up from their meals to him. Multiple lunches with Alexander had taught them not to disturb him when he had his laptop with him at the table. Now that it was closed, perhaps they could get somewhere.

 

“Something troubling you, Alexander?” Eliza asked, eyes large, dark, and glowing with sincere concern. Her eyes looked to his hangs on the top of the laptop, then to his unnecessarily thick scarf he wore, and back again. 

 

“Nothing outside the ordinary.” Alex replied, eyes not leaving the laptop. Why did he choose to sit across from John today? He was prepared to face him _after_ classes, and not a second before, and now here he was. Why couldn’t John’s 10:00 class spill over into 2:00 pm, when he had George Washington’s class to sit through? He could barely face his closest friend.

 

Eliza pushed no further. She only placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and let it linger before she pulled him in for a side-hug. She knew he had a lot of problems. The two were exes after all.

 

Alex pondered on the relationship, only lasting September through March of his freshman year. He was to blame, and he was the one who broke up with Eliza. He knew that she would’ve probably continued through their courting as if nothing was wrong. She would pretend that his constant breakdowns weren’t draining and that his periods of self-loathing didn’t wear on her just to keep the relationship going. She would because she was, in Alexander’s eyes, the very best of women.

 

He looked into those dark, pleading eyes and remembered every slip-up, every mistake.

 

He was her first. She definitely was not his.

 

 

 

She was face down, clinging to the sheets beneath her as her long, gorgeous locks were balled into Alex's fist, being tugged so tightly she could hardly keep her face in the pillow to mute her moaning. Alexander rutted her almost carelessly from behind, every pull of her hair bringing him closer to climax. Eliza was desperate to lose her virginity, so _this_ was not their first time. Their first time was a lot calmer, much more gentle. Alex made sure she understood as the relationship continued, however, that he'd gradually get rougher in their sexual pursuits. Eliza eagerly agreed to his terms, so happy to finally have some sexual experience.

 

But that night, she was tired of it all. It wasn't equally pleasurable for the couple, obvious in Alex's near-screech like moaning.

 

"Alexander." She said flatly, hoping her disinterested tone would kill the mood and he'd stop. 

 

Alexander continued on though, not realizing Eliza had forgotten their safe word. He was in such a state of pleasure, panting so heavily that he attempted to moan her name back. However, his mind betrayed his tongue, and instead he uttered a name he hadn't since his last sexual encounter with a woman.

 

"Maria..." 

 

"What?!" Eliza shot up and turned back to glare at Alexander. He didn't seem bothered, he was already coming. He pulled out and intended on finishing on her back, instead streaming her face while her mouth was open in complete disbelief.

No one knew about that instance save for Eliza, himself, and John Laurens. She didn't even tell Angelica or Peggy, and that was definitely to protect Alex from her sisters' wrath.

 

 

 

And even after his admittance of infidelity, she wished to date him, saying that "everyone screws up sometimes." 

 

How she could stand even breathing the same air he did was beyond him. The very, very best of women indeed.

 

He couldn’t keep hurting her. And after that relationship ended, Alexander considered the thought that perhaps he just shouldn’t pursue love. He was too broken, for lack of a better word.

 

Lafayette was pushing around their dining-hall-given meal with a look of boredom upon their face. Their expression contrasted heavily with today’s get-up. They had put their normally bouncy afro into twin pigtails held tightly by yellow bands. The bands matched their long-sleeved yellow crop top that was dotted with - what are those? Oh yes, - black, emoji hearts. Black tights underneath this, and yellow combat boots underneath those. Their makeup was equally as loud, but it couldn’t hide how bored they were at a table where Alexander Hamilton decided to be quiet.

 

He kissed Eliza’s hand and thanked her for her concern. It was the very VERY least he could do. He then turned to Gilbert and kissed their cheek, resulting in a half-hearted chuckle. He looked to John and let his eyes hang for a second, and nodded to acknowledge his presence. He didn't have anything to say to him until 3:15, and he planned to keep it that way.

 

He excused himself from the table and put up his tray. Then he took his belongings and left for Washington's class 30 minutes early. Early wasn't an undesirable trait in a student, he thought. Much less so than being consistently tardy.

 

 **Laurens** : Did I do something wrong?

 

There were a lot of things Alexander Hamilton hated about himself. John, Eliza, and Lafayette by extension reminded him of all of them.

 

Normally, Alex was incredible focused in any of Washington's classes. He admired the man and held him to the highest esteem. Washington was also the chair of the Pre-Law department, so the two were acquainted. But today he had so much on his mind. 

"The term 'World Politics'," Professor Washington droned on. "refers to the discipline that studies the political and economical patterns of the world and relationships between global powers, or countries."

Alex scribbled down the definition, distracted by his phone.

 

 **Hamilton** : Why do you guys even hang out with me?

 **Hamilton** : I mean, any of you. You, Mulligan, Eliza (ESPECIALLY HER), John, Angelica, Peggy...

 **Hamilton** : I'm literally awful like how do any of you stand me for more than 8 seconds

 **Une Fleur** :  how can u focus on yourself in Daddys class?

 **Hamilton** : Laf, don't be gross rn

 **Une Fleur** : i'd let him do things to me that should be illegal

 **Hamilton** : LAFAYETTE

 **Une Fleur** : HAMILTON

 **Une Fleur** : Anyway ur an amazing friend, Cochon. 

 **Une Fleur** : ur super smart and ur not awful and ur really fun to talk to at lunch which is kinda why i was kinda like blah today

 **Une Fleur** : and ur really hot that doesnt hurt

 **Hamilton** : Thanks Laf, I love you

 

No response during the rest of class. He sighed. He knew deep down Lafayette was just lying to make him feel better. The inactivity on his phone forced him to pay attention to class, the first time he was ever upset to do so.

 

Chesapeake Bar wasn't a long walk from campus, about the same length away as Angelica's apartments. It was a cute little establishment; a small little building with a large, blue sign that glowed when it past 5:00 pm. There were two phrases that lit up in an alternating fashion: 'Chesapeake Bar and Grille' and 'Best Burgers in Town, Est. 1987.'

 

Alex nearly ran to the bar, frantic to get this over with. To his surprise, John was already there. He had his head down on the table, a lemonade already by his hand. After getting closer, Alex realized his friend was actually crouching over his sketchbook drawing. He was always such a great artist. Another quirk that made Alex want to absolutely melt. 

 

No, no, no, Alexander. This ends  _today._

 

"'Sup," He said, sliding into the booth. He put his phone face up on the table near the condiments. He smiled at Laurens' paper, now visible since John picked up his head. He was doodling a picture of a turtle, common staple of John's. It was terribly cute.

 

"Hey there." John responded, voice stained with disdain. Alexander looked at him with a raised eyebrow, pondering. 

 

"So..."

 

"So."

 

"Laurens, I--" Alexander was cut off by a bubbly waitress placing a plate before John. 

 

"A large order of cheese fries?" She was horridly cute, and usually both boys would appreciate this. However, it was a bad time. The tension was disgustingly thick, and they dismissed her immediately after the platter touched the table.

 

"Laurens, I like you a lot." He almost shouted as soon as he was sure the waitress was out of earshot.

 

"You do?"

 

"Yes, badly. But I know that--"

 

"I like you too, Alexander." He looked so happy, pushing his plate and book out of the way to grab Alexander's hands. 

 

"Y-yo...What?"

 

"I really like you, Alexander. I wanted to ask you out last semester. But I knew how weird Halloween made things and how things went with Eliza and--"

 

"That's what I wanted to discuss, Laurens." He made himself say this as seriously as he could muster. He was still reeling in shock that Laurens did, indeed, like him too, but he couldn't let it get far. No matter how much he wanted it to. 

 

"Alexander, you're the closest friend I got. And I like you. I don't care what happened with Eliza. We can do this, we really really can do this. We can stop sneaking around and stop lying to our friends and we could be the couple that really changes shit around here. If you want to be with me, we can work through all of this, together, I promise."

 

Alex snatched his hands away. He couldn't let John go through what Eliza had. He had to be blunt. "I really can't date you, Laurens. Not right now at least."

 

"But why?"

 

Just then, Alex's phone vibrated. One message glowed on the screen.

 

 **Une Fleur** : I love you too, _mon cochon._

 

He grabbed for his phone but wasn't quick enough for John to ignore it. John bowed his head and looked at his shoes.

 

"I see."

 

"No, John, that's not--"

 

"Let's just..." John stood up, sketchbook in hand. He pushed his long hair into a ponytail, discreetly wiping his eyes. He let out a sad chuckle and closed his eyes. After a quick deep breath, he looked to Alex again. "forget it. I'll give you your shirt back in a bit just...I'll see you tomorrow." And with that he sped out of the restaurant, Alexander attempting to call out behind him.

 

Alexander put a palm to his face.  _He fucking likes you back. And you STILL fucked it up!_

 

And what a waste of cheese fries.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few notes that I randomly feel like telling you people.
> 
> 1.) I love when people characterize John as the angry black queer kid from South Carolina because I AM the angry black queer kid from South Carolina. Not from Charleston like most fic authors put John in, but I am close. I'm visiting my parents back here from my first semester of college - my first semester being unapologetically out - and it's suffocating. My home town is nothing like the city. It's really, really not. And once you get a taste of city life and you meet so many other queer people, it gets hard going back into that little box. All this to say, I feel for John, and I promise I won't hurt him too bad in this fic.
> 
> 2.) You should keep up with me on social media, befriend me and shit. (Main tumblr: officialberrypunch, Hamilton sideblog: actualjohnlaurens, Twitter: @gayjohnlaurens)
> 
> 3.) My other friend who is completely obsessed with Hamilton as well reads this apparently and refuses to read anymore until I'm done with it (!!!) and I'm just so thankful. Thank you for your kudos and kind words. I read all of your comments, here and on tumblr. I love em and I love you sinners.
> 
> 4.) It is actually almost Alexander Hamilton's birthday!! It's on Monday, January 11th, which is coincidentally when I have to drive back to campus :/
> 
> 5.) I own (most of) the outfit Lafayette wears in this chapter!!


	4. dumb emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has to find a way to cope without Alexander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaahhhh. I love flashbacks. Finally wrote the Halloween scene!!
> 
> Warning for: explicit sex scenes, recreational drug use, underage drinking, suicidal thoughts, discussion on these thoughts, and compulsory heterosexuality.
> 
> Gross.

John Laurens  _did_ love Alexander Hamilton, but it didn’t matter.

 

 

How could John be so blind? Alexander wasn’t some lovesick fool, ready for John to snatch up whenever he pleased, he was a cheater with a thing for rough sex. Nothing more. Eliza warned him, but he put himself out there anyway. God, what a tool.

 

And with his two very best friends—Oh, Lafayette! —Did they even know their boyfriend was cheating on them? How long had they been together? John felt sick, literally sick, and stopped running when he was only steps outside of Chesapeake Bar.

 

Who platonically kisses lip-to-lip anyway? And the way they flirted on Tuesday morning,  _Jesus,_ John was so oblivious.

 

It then occurred to John: the little loving gestures displayed with Lafayette meant nothing in the eyes of a cheater like Alex. Hell, John and Alex had fucked tons of times now, and clearly  _that_ didn’t mean anything to him. Platonic kissing was probably a daily occurrence for the old bastard.

 

Oh, Lafayette. Oh, Eliza. Why did he ever think that Alex would learn?

 

Part of John envied Lafayette, wanted to punch their pretty little face in. Another was simply sad for them.

 

Another part, completely involuntarily John would argue, could only imagine the sex they had with Alexander. Did he moan their name just as desperately as he had John’s? Did they exhibit the same level of care?

 

 

 

Halloween night was a fluke, but it was the best damned fluke John ever experienced.

 

 

He had been rolling that night, per Angelica’s request. He hesitated, clutching tightly to the pink tablet in his hand. It had a smiley face etched into it.

 

“C’mon, John, it’s Halloween! And this is like, your first college party, right?”

 

She was right. John mostly kept to himself outside of class and a few clubs. He only agreed on going out because of the holiday. Hercules swore that James Madison’s house was a great party spot, and his other two friends agreed. He thought to himself “why not?” Halloween fell on a Saturday night, after all, and trying new things was a key portion of John’s 2015 New Year’s resolution.

 

Angelica was swaying slightly. Her eyes were glassy, pupils jumpy. Evidently, hinted at by the smell of liquor on her breath, she had been drinking AND rolling. John was concerned, but he promised to loosen up. He swallowed the pill slowly (if not reluctantly) and Angelica whooped.

 

Angelica gathered a group of willing participants soon after to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. John followed the crowd into a small room James deemed fit for the game. It was a puny guest room, ecru walls, a single couch, a closet, and generic, bland décor. Hercules placed an empty beer bottle on its side and asked who wished to go first. Lafayette volunteered, and the game began.

 

They spun the bottle a bit too eagerly (had they also been rolling? Whatever…) and it stopped on Peggy. Peggy didn't actually go to King's College at the time, but she was considering transferring from a nearby tech college and her sisters wanted to show her what their college life was all about. She exclaimed giddily and Lafayette swooped her up, nearly knocking the bottle across the room in the frenzy they rushed to the closet. Eliza and Angelica cheered. Quite a way to get initiated in the gang, John thought.

 

They finished their allotted time and the game continued. Peggy’s sisters both drunkenly high-fived her, giggling at the lipstick stains Lafayette left on the youngest girl’s neck.

 

After watching Thomas Jefferson and Angelica rush into the dark closet designated for the game, John felt himself adjust to the feel of the room. He was a lot happier, he could feel it in the ear-to-ear grin growing on his face. The music in the house, muffled by the shut door of the guest room, seemed to seep in to his skin and dance on his bones. He didn’t intend on it, but he started bobbing his head slowly to the electronic tunes. He put his arm lazily around whoever was next to him—Oh, hi, Alex! –and admired the soft, rosy glow that radiated off everything and everyone in the room. Why didn’t he notice how beautiful they all looked before?

 

“John,” said the boy to his left, voice sounding as if it moderately echoed. He snapped his attention away from his other surroundings and looked at him, heart ready to climb out of his chest.

 

“What?” He replied a bit too quickly. He let his arm fall from Alex’s shoulder.

 

Alex pointed at the bottle before the. It pointed directly at John. When did Angie and Thomas get back?

 

“Cool, who spun it?” He said excitedly. He had the biggest urge to touch someone right now.

 

Everyone else laughed way too loudly. God, they were all equally fucked up.

 

“I did, John.” Alexander smiled.

 

His eyes widened. This was beyond what he wished for. He would’ve settled for anyone, honestly. He just really needed someone to touch. Alexander was a blessing. The scrappy little immigrant had something in him that John yearned for. Maybe it was his uncensored passion for the things he believed in, maybe it was his just-driven nature, but something in him attracted John for a very long time. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t smitten with him the second he found out Alex wasn’t straight. He thought of asking him out in freshman year but Alexander dated Eliza and after the breakup he seemed so distant…

 

John’s conscience somehow cut through the web of his arousal for a quick second. He turned to Eliza, pity obvious in his face. He gave her a sad look, waiting for some sort of go ahead. She was too drunk to truly consider his pleading gaze, looking as if she were about to take a 40 year nap. His concern dissolved when he felt Alexander tug on his sleeve.

 

James, being the gracious host he was, helped both of them up and walked them into the closet. It was stuffy and dark inside.

 

 

“Okay, seven minutes, you guys.” He put an extra emphasis on the seven. The door shut and the sound of footsteps faded away.

 

They were alone. Alone, extremely high, and extremely needy.

 

Uncharacteristically, John moved first, pawing around for Alexander’s figure, darkness inhibiting his coordination. He shoved him up against whatever wall he could find. The sudden movement triggered the dim overhead light, and he could finally see Alexander’s face.

 

Eliza’s ex-boyfriend looked as if he just wrestled with a bear. His hair, usually contained by a ponytail holder, was completely tossed about, framing his face in a wild manner. His cheeks were flushed pink and he breathed hard as if he were just punched. He had those dark eyes locked onto John, his stare alone almost immoral. The gaze dared John to continue.

 

John yanked Alex’s shirt off in a fervor, only somewhat stimulated to action by the ecstasy. He grabbed for the back of Alex’s head, pulling him in for a “kiss,” kiss in this sense meaning reckless tongue sloshing and panicked panting. His hands wandered downward, palming his torso feverishly, taking in the body heat Alex emitted, craving more and more the contact he was receiving.

 

Alex let out a loud squeak-like moan that John was sure the others heard. How long had it been? Was Eliza truly okay with this? Would she ever be okay with this?

 

Thoughts of his other friends left his brain as Alexander nudged him to also take off his shirt. He did so quickly and grabbed at Alex again, this time his hands landing on his hips. Their faces met again at the lips and the bulges in their pants grazed one another.

 

Alex gasped at their groins touching and John’s breathing stuttered. These sounds were only making his mission clearer. He wanted to go further with Alexander. Seven minutes would never be enough time. He slid one of his hands back up to Alex’s head as they continued messily making out, holding tight to his hair. John tugged a bit harder on his hair than he projected, and he nearly apologized. But Alexander responded positively, biting down on John’s lower lip and grunting.

 

Alex pushed John abruptly, and the latter staggered backward. Now on the bare tile, he sat up on his elbows and started to protest.

 

“What the fuck did y— “

 

Alex pounced on top of him, pressing his naked back onto the cold floor, pinning him down with more voracious kisses. He wanted to curse Alexander out and slap him across the face, but there was something so irresistible about being beneath his weight when he was so stirred like this.

 

John was painfully hard. The rate they were moving proved insatiable to him, and his hand drifted towards his erect dick hidden away in his pants. Alexander noticed and moved his hand away, dropping his face from John’s mouth to his crotch.

 

“Yes.  _Yes_.” John couldn’t pretend to care about the game anymore. Eliza, the game rules, all of it could be damned. He needed this, whatever Alexander wished to do, and he needed it now.

 

 In his distracted haze he didn't notice Alex already had John's dick in hand. He only noticed when he began stroking it experimentally, smearing precum across its hood with his thumb. John bit his lip to muffle a moan, but it didn't get past Alex. The younger boy snickered at this, sounding somehow flattered. He sat the head on his tongue and lapped at it with quick, upward flicks. John tensed up under his touch.

 

"Fuck...you..." John exhaled, looking down at Alexander through hooded eyes. His hair was frizzy, his back freezing. He wasn't in the mood for teasing.

 

Before John could complain further, Alex's mouth enveloped his cock. His lips touched John's base and he shut his eyes immediately. He thrust his hips up into the warmth descending on him. Alex moved his head with the humping, saliva falling messily from all sides of his mouth, unflattering squelching peppering the air along with John's restrained swearing. John gripped Alexander's hair to hold his face down while he fucked his throat relentlessly. Alex moaned at the pace change and John's eyes shut tighter. He was losing control, and he was going to come almost embarrassingly quick. 

 

Two knocks. 

 

Shit, the game. Shit, the  _party._ The threat of being caught didn't seem to faze either of them as Alex sped up his sucking. John spasmed and shot his load down his friend's throat,  _barely_ holding in a shout. 

 

"Guys? It's not really important anymore but times up."

 

John was still hard. Fuck.

 

Alex was trying to swallow, most likely in an effort to hide their activities from the others, but he couldn't help sputtering John's seed onto the floor.

 

"Did one of you throw up? Jesus Christ." James sounded so disinterested, as if this had happened before.

 

_Just how many parties does this guy throw here?_

 

John tucked his erection back into his pants, hoping it didn't show too much. "Y-yeah, hold on, just a second!" He muttered out. John felt around for his shirt he took off and wiped up the offending liquid off of Alex's face and the ground. Wearing a stained shirt that was only minutes ago dry wasn’t ideal around a group of friends, but he couldn’t care less. He needed to get his friend back to the dorms, a place where the time constraint wouldn’t limit them. Alexander grabbed his own shirt and put it on backwards.

 

"We're not done with this." Alexander whispered longingly. He was breathing so hard. 

 

"No, we're not." John whispered back, struggling to stand up. He helped Alexander up and kissed him once more, passionately and wildly. "Fuck. Let's go home."

 

John opened the door to a nearly empty room. The rosy glow remained, but only James Madison and Thomas Jefferson were left.

 

"What happened?" 

 

"After you guys went in, Eliza and Angelica passed out. Peggy got scared and drove them back to their dorms--no, don't freak out, she was sober. Didn't touch a drink or anything all night. Lafayette had to go to the bathroom and after a while Mulligan got a text from them saying they didn't feel well and they needed to leave..." James was counting off on his fingers so casually, as if this was just any old Saturday.

 

"And him?" Alexander was clinging to John, but he freed a hand in a curious point towards Thomas, still and splayed out on the loveseat. 

 

"He's out cold." James smiled. "But he's always here."

 

John huffed at this. He came from a very wealthy family, as did Madison, and he could easy bum a few thousand to buy his own off campus house. Hell, he wasn't as flagrant as James, he could just rent an apartment. He could throw parties, too, or simply just sleep soundly without people so close by. But that would mean asking his wealthy family, and that would mean talking to his dad. He banished the thought to the back of his mind.

 

Alexander tugged on John's shirt and his top priority snapped back to the front of his mind. "James, have you been drinking? Or anything?"

 

James shook his head.

 

"C-could you drive us back to campus? Like, now?"

 

"Sure."

 

And so he did. The ride felt like an eternity to John. He and Alexander piled into the back of the car and their mouths didn't leave one another. They were pressed against the leather of James' carseats openly and loudly. James seemed completely unmoved.

 

They returned to campus and James made sure they got into the building safely, awkwardly shoving them into John's dorm. 

 

The sex was hurried and beyond satisfying. By the time they were done, John came twice more, aching from back-to-back orgasm, and he fell asleep on his back, heaving and shaking. Alexander slept crammed next to him, face down, equally exhausted.

 

 

 **James** : Look I promise I won't tell anybody about all that stuff so don't worry

 **James** : DRINK LOTS OF WATER Y'ALL IM NOT KIDDING

 

"John?"

 

"Hm?"

 

"What day is it, John?" Alex shifted impatiently and lifted his head.

 

"Sunday. You didn't miss a class." 

 

Sleep was harder than it should've been after such rigorous sex. The drying cum on John's body seemed to taunt him, mocking his desperate state. The ecstasy high didn't fade as fast as John hoped, and it played non-stop light shows behind his eyelids through most of the night. His dreams were FUCKED up, and the sight of Alexander sleeping next to him was the first veridical image John saw when he woke up hours before Alex even opened his eyes. It was a blessing. He was a blessing. God, college is awesome.

 

"John?"

 

"Yes, Alex?"

 

"Is that weed?"

 

"Heh. Yeah."

 

John had a spliff in his grasp, taking another drag of it as he answered Alex's questions. He knew he shouldn't have been smoking in the dorm, especially with a guest in the room, but he was so stressed. He woke up long before Alexander did, and seeing the evidence of what they did the night before made his anxiety flare wildly. He needed to relax before he had a panic attack. Many of his friends warned him that marijuana only made people more anxious, but the opposite rang true for him. He was grateful for that fact and always kept some in his nightstand when shit got bad.

 

He blew the smoke away from Alex in courtesy. "Do you smoke?" He asked.

 

"No, but I want to. Gimme."

 

John passed the blunt to Alex and helped him smoke it properly. Alex coughed at the new feeling and John laughed, telling Alex that he had to hold it in a bit if he wanted it to work. After a few more hits, Alex was properly high and there they were, naked and stoned at 10 in the morning.

 

"John."

 

"Yeah, Alex?"

 

"We fucked last night."

 

"Yeah."

 

"Oh my god."

 

They collapsed into laughter and then numbing silence. 

 

"John."

 

"Oh my god. Stop calling my name dude, sounds so like, gross when you say it so much."

 

"Like, ecstasy is really bad for you right? Like...." He nearly nodded off. "Like...we need water. If we get too dehydrated, it could get bad."

 

"Mm. Later."

 

"What, are you trying to die?"

 

"Wouldn't mind it, actually." John chuckled and sighed. "Only been trying to for like...all my life or something."

 

"What?"

 

He languidly reached for Alexander's hand, taking it and grazing it over his left wrist. Faded scars and slits could be felt there in the most inconspicuous areas. An untrained eye would mistake them as birthmarks or just a skin condition. Alexander grimaced at the discovery and pulled his hand away. John just kept laughing.

 

"Never brave enough to do bigger ones just...jumped off of shit a lot. Stopped eating sometimes. Picked fights and didn't fight back. My body wouldn't let me just fucking die."

 

"I relate to that." 

 

"I'm thinking if this shit with my dad keeps getting worse..." He took a deep breath. "If it gets worse I'm just gonna get it over with, you know? Hang myself or some shit."

 

"Laurens." Alex said, turning on the pillow to face him. John turned to face him as well, thankful he found an alternate way to summon him rather than constantly repeating his first name. 

 

"Hm?"

 

"I know how that is, wanting that constantly. I get it. I watched my mom die. I asked myself for years, when do I go? Why is God keeping me alive? I thought it would be better in college, so I go in early. I graduated at 16 and went straight to college in my hometown. Then, when I was finishing shit up at 17, a fucking hurricane blows through. Everyone I know and love, fucking dead. But not me."

 

John was stunned. What do you say to something like that?

 

"I got as much as I could and found a way to get to America. I had to. There was a reason I needed to be here, Laurens. If there wasn't, I would've died, I think."

 

"Makes sense."

 

"Well, that goes double for you. You're fucking amazing, okay? I’m really fucking high right now but you’re like, my favorite person. You’re my best friend, okay? John, are you listening? My best fucking friend.”

 

“Such a way with words, Alexander.” The word friend stung, its impact dulled by the high John was enjoying.

 

“No, no, I—fuck, listen, let me get my thoughts together.” An awkward pause of silence. “Like, you’re so great John. You stand up for what you believe in and you serve as a leader for a lot of us here and honestly I’ve never seen anyone so willing to shut things down for what they believe in plus you’re so smart and you’re just such a great friend, like, dude…”

 

When did they get so close? 

 

“Just know…” Alexander held to John's hands, intertwining their fingers.  "If you ever get bad again, I'm always here for you, okay? For anything, you know? A shoulder to cry on, a person to vent to, a-- "

 

"A person to fuck?" John smiled slyly, knowing his question was a bit risque. Then again, when you're stoned out of your mind and you just fucked your best friend, what's really crossing the line? His eyes surveyed his surrounding, lingering near Alexander's chin when he discovered a red imprint worn like a shrunken choker. Fuck, John did that to him. 

 

Alexander cracked up at this question, and it only affected John a little. There was a small trace of nervousness in Alexander's laughter though. "Maybe one more time, someday. What's sex between friends, right? I doubt it though."

 

 

What a fucking joke. It seemed that after they had a taste of each other, they couldn’t stop. Without the threat of offending a significant other, John felt himself falling harder for Alex. The sex only got rougher and more frequent. They swore it was just a friend thing, but John's mind pondered over the possibility of being more than friends who fuck. In December, when John proposed EveryHue to the school board and enlisted Alex as an exec board member, they agreed to stop. That was fine, he thought. He could live without Alexander Hamilton. He had before and he could do it again.

 

He was doing so well. He had his best friend back -- just a friend, one who doesn't moan your name or suck your dick or make your skin hot to the touch by a simple gesture -- and his feelings for him were in remission. 

 

Then winter break ended. And he fell twice as fast.

 

 

 

John couldn't hide the tears falling now. He wept openly but silently outside the restaurant, trying his hardest to not stain the shirt he took from Alex.

 

"Hey! You didn't pay for your cheese fries, asshole!" 

 

John turned and saw the waitress from before. She was a fair-skinned lady, a brunette with dark brown irises that seemed to suck you in, false eyelashes that rivaled only Lafayette's. She had a dark blue uniform matching the key color of the bar. Her bobbed hair was plain and fit her face well, framing the round mug in a way most people seemed to prefer.

 

"Yeah, you! I asked your buddy at the table to pay up and he said he didn't have any money? What are you trying to pull?"

 

"I'm sorry, sorry, sorry...." He didn't mean to leave without paying. The emotion felt when Alexander rejected He muttered and dug in his pocket for payment. "How much do I owe you?"

 

"Jack Laurens?" She said, abandoning the accosting tone she had moments ago. 

 

John stiffened at the sound of his childhood nickname, one he absolutely loathed. 

 

"Martha..." he said, regretfully. He wiped his face again and braced for an imminent, less-than-comfortable hug.

 

She squealed and threw her arms around him, and he grunted.  _God fucking damn it,_ he thought.  _I should've just dined-and-dashed._

 

"How are you, Jacky? Gosh, you've grown since I last saw you! And your hair is so long! You look so..." She couldn't hide her obviously flirtatious tone. 

 

"...handsome."

 

He backed away from her and began to walk towards campus. "Yeah, okay. I'm going home. Leave me alone, and don't follow."

 

"Wait, Jack. Did you meet someone else? You have a new girlfriend?"

 

He flinched. "No."

 

"Okay, good. I can't think of any girl here who deserves you," She added quietly.

 

_No girl deserves to deal with my bullshit, honestly._

 

"Okay. Remember, don't follow."

 

"I'll text you later, okay?"

 

He was long gone, trying to forget her face, trying to forget Lafayette and Alexander, trying to forget every feeling welling up inside him from the events of today.

                                                            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> The spring semester is here!! So updates will either speed up with procrastination or slow down when I actually decide to get some papers done. Thank you all for your sweet words, guys!!
> 
> P.S.: guess how drunk i was finishing this??? the answer is very


	5. nothing's wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander can't deal with his emotions like an adult, no matter how much Lafayette encourages it.

“ _Cochon._ You’re being ridiculous.”

 

Lafayette had their hands on their hips and a pout on their face. If they pouted any harder, they might smudge their makeup. They hated seeing Alex overexert himself, and Alex knew that. But he couldn’t help it. When he got too stressed, he dove headfirst into his work.

 

“I’ve finished the paper for Washington’s class,” he mumbled, ignoring Lafayette’s concern. “It’s due on the 15th, and I got it done a whole week early.”

 

“That’s completely _ridiculous._ It’s Friday.” Their patience was wearing thin, obvious in their tone. “Have you texted John since Wednesday?”

 

“No time. I gotta just—“

 

A knock on the door. Neither students moved. Alex looked to Lafayette, daring them to move.

 

“Why are you looking at me? This is _your_ room!”

 

“It might be John. Tell him to go away.” Alex turned as soon as his sentences were done back to the papers he was scribbling upon.

 

A huff was exhaled behind him, and his went to open the dorm door. “Salut, Alex is – Ahhhh!!!” Lafayette erupted into a fit of giggling. “Do _not_ tickle me!”

 

“Laf?” Alex was disturbed enough to turn slightly in his seat towards the door.

 

Their laughter turned into frantic shush-giggling, and Alex heard a deeper voice say ‘what are you doing here,’ playfulness obvious in the tone.

 

“It’s only Monsieur Mulligan, _Cochon_. He – _ahem._ – startled me when I opened the door.”

 

“I left my key.” Hercules cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to see Lafayette here. Heh.”

 

Any inkling of suspicion Alex had he buried in the back of his mind, substituting his concern with laser-like focus on studying. He wasn’t in college to whine, fall in love, or speculate over his friends’ love lives. He was here to study. He didn’t need a petty thing like this distracting him, especially not right now.

 

“Mulligan,” Lafayette flopped down onto Hercules’ bed. They stressed every syllable of his name as if it were a ballad. “Tell Alex he’s being ridiculous, _S'il vous plait_.”

 

“Is this still about John? Dude, did you tell him that you and Lafayette aren’t dating?” Hercules landed on his own bed in a similar fashion, putting an affectionate arm around Lafayette, holding them in an innocent spooning position. Even as Hercules’ hand travelled across Lafayette’s clothed chest, Lafayette beaming at the attention, Alex’s eyes never roamed from his papers.

 

“No time. I don’t even know where my phone is so I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” What his friends didn’t know was that, in a rage, their beloved friend put his phone on silent and tossed it across the room. After he “disposed” of the offending object, he crawled into bed and cried himself to sleep. That was Wednesday night, however. He hadn’t slept since then.

 

“I found it earlier.” Lafayette waved the gadget from Hercules’ bed. “What’s your password?”

 

“Stop, Laf.”

 

“Try 1-7-7-6.” Hercules whispered (but not really; his voice carries). “The brother loves history.”

 

“Mmmmm…good try, _my dearest_ , but nope.”

 

“You’re never gonna guess it, guys, so you guys should really stop before you lock me out and I – “

 

“Try 1-8-0-4. “

 

“Ha! Got it!” Lafayette shifted in Hercules’ embrace. “How’d you know that?”

 

“I don’t know, exactly. I think some old white dude died that year and Alex really liked that he –“

 

“Laf, don’t!” Alex actually moved this time, leaping to grab his phone. Hercules maneuvered over Lafayette to block his path and put his roommate into a headlock.

 

“No, dude, this is good for you. This needs to end.”

 

“Laf! Do NOT.”

 

Lafayette was a fast texter, and they had already sent a few texts before Alex even had the decency to leave his seat.

 

“Too late.” They chimed, innocently, as if they didn’t just do exactly what Alex said not to do. Hercules let go after Lafayette gave him the go ahead.

 

“Do you want to see what I said?”

 

“Ugh. Give me my phone…”

 

 **Hamilton** : Look John, I’m not dating Lafayette. They are a really good friend but –

 

 

“I’m surprised you were so humble, Lafayette.”

 

“I held back for you, _mon ami._ ”

 

He went back to reading Lafayette’s texts, fueled both by irritation and curiosity. The texts weren’t that bad so far.

 

 

 **Hamilton** : -- but we’re not dating. We should talk later, with less emotion. Please.

 

 

“Ugh. How do you type like a pretentious ass all the time? Too much effort.”

 

“Thank you for not being too embarrassing, Laf.”

 

 

It was already 5:00 pm, and Alexander’s (or, rather, Lafayette’s) text messages were still unanswered. Lafayette dragged Alex to the dining hall, leaving Hercules to nap without the sound of incessant keyboard tapping.

 

The walk to Yorktown was too lengthy to be silent, though. As much as he wanted to pull the ol’ silent treatment, Alex hadn’t talked much since the John thing, and he was still Lafayette’s friend.

 

“So.” Alex was determined to keep the conversation away from John, though. He wasn’t ready to think about the situation as long as John planned to ignore him. He could keep his feelings hidden for a while more.

 

“So.”

 

“What’s going on between you and Mulligan?”

 

“Nothing.” They answered way too quickly, making their statement more bullshit-sounding than it already was.

 

“Then why are you so afraid of loving me?”

 

“Is…is that a reference to Scrubs, _Monsieur_?”

 

“They don’t have Scrubs in France…do they?”

 

“I feel like I should be offended but I do not have the surest reason to be.”

 

“But really though,” Alex put his hands in his hoodie pocket to shield them from the New York air. It was getting cold too quickly his tastes. There were rumors it was supposed to snow tomorrow, and if that premonition came true, this would definitely be the second worst week of his life.

 

“Hm?”

 

He hated looking up to Lafayette. Why couldn’t he be taller? “Would dating me be so bad?”

 

“Hamilton, we’re not dating nor have we ever been dating. I’m sure you’d be the best boyfriend, but I’m not interested in dating you. I couldn’t hold a candle to the nonsense you and John go through, anyway.” Their voice was assuring with just a touch of allure.

 

“I’m not the best boyfriend,” He murmured too quietly for them to hear, thinking back on how ridiculous he had been with Eliza. If he could go back in time, he’d kill his freshman self. There’s actually a long list of things he’d do with a time machine, but that was definitely on it. “What makes me so undesirable?”

 

“I see we’re still avoiding talking about John. Okay…” Lafayette stopped walking and looked Alex up and down. “You’re short.”

 

“Is that really such a bad thing? I know many a person who think it’s a bit of an advantage, if you know what I mean?”

 

“ _Garçon dégoûtant…_ ” Lafayette walked forward, closing the gap between them. They dragged a caring hand over Alexander’s hair, kneading the follicles in their fingertips when they reached the ends. “You have the worst temper. You’re loud and you’re stubborn.”

 

He blushed, still not seeing the downside to any of Lafayette’s points. It’s not like they were the most mild-mannered belle in the world. The main distinction between Hamilton and his friend was the role they played in the chaos. See, Lafayette would be a contributing party, always, but Alexander usually orchestrated the whole mess. Whether it’s a bar fight that didn’t need to happen or a prank gone terribly wrong (right?), the two were usually cohorts. Lafayette only looked innocent, they couldn’t feign the lifestyle for too long.

 

“And, _mon doux cochon_ , you’re a bit of a…Ah…what is the word?”

 

Alex shrugged. He hoped whatever Lafayette was saying would be good.

 

“In France, we say _fée_. I do not know if there is an English equivalent…”

 

“Are you suggesting that I’m a _twink, Lafayette?_ ” A fairy would be more accurate of a translation, he thought to himself, but he understood what they were insinuating either way.

 

“Is that the word? Oh, it sounds disgusting. Perfect for you.”

 

“Shut up.” Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Being such close friends, Alex knew (in great detail) about most of their sexual conquests and they weren’t one to turn down an opportunity to bottom. Lafayette wears _lipstick_ for Christ’s sake. His blush deepened and he shoved Lafayette playfully in the gut. Lafayette didn’t move back too far, though. They used the hand not in Alex’s hair to hold tightly onto his waist, grounding themself. He took his slender fingers and tugged on a tiny section of hair. Alex compulsorily whined out a noise not at all appropriate for the context. He immediately gasped and covered his mouth with his hands. Lafayette nodded at the reaction.

 

“Too delicate. Yes, we would not be a good fit, I don’t think.” They let him go and gestured so the two would begin walking again. The rest of the short walk to Yorktown was silent, Alex’s embarrassment suffocating any other words he wanted to say.

 

Alex was slightly irritated with Lafayette’s implication. He could be dominant if he wanted to. He had before. There was only a shred of truth in their statements – only a shred! Alex was some plaything that would shudder under just _any_ demanding touch, it was circumstantial. Yes, he firmly believed this, and Lafayette didn’t know what they were talking about. No matter how weak his knees got when his puckish friend’s eyes went dark like they just had, no matter how much the idea of them controlling him appealed to him. No matter how breathless he felt himself go when images flashed in his mind about their weight on top of him, completely under Lafayette’s will, their hand weaving its way into his hair, tugging feverishly as they pound moans out of –

 

“You look awfully red, _cochon_. I was only joking!” He shook his blush away and took longer strides towards the dining hall.

 

One there, Lafayette sped through the food line, barely covering their plate. Another diet, maybe?

 

They were nearly done with their food by the time Alex piled his plate properly. They sat next to the oldest Schuyler sister, and she waved him over. She did this weakly as she was already engrossed in a conversation with his other friend.

 

Her face was expressionless when he approached the table. She was never easy to read, but at this moment her eyes might as well been in ancient encryption. This stoic demeanor was a mastermind tactic, Alex knew it. He stopped walking when he got close to the table and tried a smile.

 

“Hey, Angie. How are y—“

 

“Sit down, Hamilton. Tell me everything.”

 

She had him trapped in a judgmental gaze, and he knew if he ran he wouldn’t get far. So he sat, transfixed, almost robotically placing his place to the right of him to better face her. Lafayette stopped talking when she started – she had that effect, the ability to rip the air right out of your lungs – and their eyes shifted between him and her. Alex looked to Lafayette for an escape plan, an explanation, _something_ to spare him of the wrath of Angelica Schuyler, but to no avail. The French native was equally helpless, and they were a sucker for gossip. They wouldn’t come to Alex’s if they could.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alexander then, ever so gracefully, stabbed the steak on his right with a plastic fork and scooped the entire meat slab into his mouth before she could interrogate him any farther. He knew he looked ridiculous with half of the food hanging out his face, grease dribbling onto his shirt, but at least he had an excuse to be uncharacteristically quiet.

 

Her eyes narrowed. Lafayette observed silently with caution.

 

“I know you’re fucking John.” She fired out bluntly.

 

He should’ve know not to call her bluff. It takes every nerve in his body, but Alex suppresses the desire to choke and foolishly keeps his eyes locked on hers. The room becomes a vacuum complete void of outside noise, the other students’ chatting dissipating amongst the tension. All that Alex hears is his uncomfortable chewing. They’re the only two in the entire building, the whole campus is barren. She smirks, daring him to react. A fire dances in those eyes of hers, a fire only fueled by how futile his denial is. It ardently taunts him, egging him to deny the accusation.

 

Lafayette launches them out of the staring before Alex can decide on a course of action.     

        

“WHAT?!” They nearly scream, slamming their palms on the table. It wobbles and Alex spits the steak out back onto the plate. He loses his footing in the staring match. Angelica doesn’t falter. Her smile only grows.

 

Lafayette stands now, looking at them back and forth. The news is big sure, Alex thinks, but why must Lafayette be so dramatic?

 

“How _long?_ ” They inquire, their question soaked in the surprise from betrayal. It’s damage control time.

 

“Laf, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it’s only been a few months and –"

 

“Months, huh?” Angelica said with faux-shock.

 

“What? No, Alex, how long is his _dick_?”

 

“LAFAYETTE!” Angelica and Alex shout pointedly in unison.

 

“You have to tell me. I’ve only wanted to know ever since I found out the guy fucks guys.” They lowered their voice, noticing a few stray stares from other students. “You know, I’ve noticed it is the people who are the most reserved and modest in the subject who are the most blessed.”

 

 Alexander said nothing. Angelica shook her head.

 

"Look, that's not what this is about. I knew something was going on between you two but I didn't think it was this trivial. You know John's losing sleep over this shit?"

 

"How would you know?" Alexander asked a bit too roughly. No one could claim to know Laurens more than he did, and if he were losing sleep, he would've fixed it by now.

 

"Any time he gets really stressed, he talks to Eliza." Alexander frowned at the sound of his darling ex's name. God, she deserves so much better.

 

"And there's been a serious spike of phone calls from him lately," She continued. "At all times of night. Yesterday she got a 4:00 am. You guys need to work this out in a healthy way, Alexander. A way that's gonna fix shit before this EveryHue meeting. And before your birthday. We're basically a clique, Alex, and when cliques break up there's choosing sides and such and honestly you'd have a pretty small team at this point I think. You're kinda being an ass."

 

"Nothing new," Alex said under his breath.

 

"This just makes the whole mess even more of a mess. And I didn't even know." Lafayette grumbled.

 

"I'm sorry," Alex says again. "I was ashamed. I felt used and I liked feeling used. We'd just date but I can't date anyone. I just can't. Not after what happened with Eliza."

 

"Alex, Eliza isn't upset with you. She gets it,"

 

"No, Angelica, you don't get it. I can't be fucking trusted."

 

"While that's an arguable case, it's over with. You can grow from this, okay? You weren't right for Eliza. No man may be right for her, she's the most kind and forgiving person I have the pleasure of knowing. It took guts to admit that and break it off like you did. Isn't that something?"

 

"Angelica, I -- "

 

The doors at the front of the dining burst open suddenly, enough of a stir for the table to shift their attention towards it. In ran Aaron Burr, sweating and panicked. He heads right for their table and pulls at Alexander's shirt sleeve.

 

"Oh thank god, Hamilton. Y-you have--you have to fi-fix this right now." He says out of breath. He cringes when his voice lifts and squeaks in the middle of his sentence.

 

Alexander holds Aaron's shoulders with a death grip. "What's wrong?"

 

"John is-- " He's coughing uncontrollably. The words don't come out quick enough. "Just come on, please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spongebob voice] Halfway there! Halfway there! Halfway there...
> 
> I've framed out the remaining chapters so I'm definitely finishing at 10, pinky-promise. I also pinky-promise shit get's better for the revolutionary set.
> 
> And GUYS I have NEWS. The amazing lamstrash and I are going to see HAMILTON ON BROADWAY!! In 46 days, 17 hours and 32 minutes! But who's counting?
> 
> Next time it gets gayer


	6. deep shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a bit of a breakdown.  
> WARNINGS: self-harm, swearing, violence, recreational marijuana use. homophobic slurs, misgendering, panic attacks, suicide mention, alcoholism, aaaand domestic abuse.
> 
> as you've probably gathered, this is not the chapter where shit gets better

John didn’t go to any of his classes after Wednesday night.

 

He called her on impulse on Wednesday, on the precipice of a panic attack. She talked him down from it. He spared the details but got out that he made a misjudgment and things were really hectic. She was the one who guessed it was about Alexander Hamilton. After she calmed him down somewhat, he snuck away to the parking lot behind the dorms and smoked a joint. Sleep came easier that night.

 

Before he takes his first puff, he presses the lit joint into the underside of his palm, swearing loudly at the pain. Burning himself was a form of self-harm he didn’t resort to often because it’s too noticeable, but at this point he didn’t really care.

 

Back in his dorm he called Eliza again, lost in a marijuana-induced haze. His words were unintelligible, but she stayed on and tried to follow his scattered speech pattern. He appreciated her so much, such a pure, kind soul.

 

She was too good for Alex, a disgusting cheater, twice bitten.

 

They talked for a long time, deep into the night, and he maneuvered around any discussion of sex. He didn’t know if Angelica told Eliza about him and Alex, but he wasn’t going to tell her if she hadn’t.

 

 “I’m worried about you, John.” She admitted a few hours into the conversation. “Let me come over tomorrow. I want to see how you’re doing.”

 

He politely declined, but thanked her for caring. He wasn’t really in the mood to see anyone right now.

 

He couldn’t pull himself out of bed on Thursday morning.

 

His eyes opened right at 5:59 am, per usual, but he couldn’t make himself get up. He avoided his phone for most of the time he laid there, only breaking the technology fast to update Eliza on how he was doing between her classes.

 

8:30 – 9:45: Statistics

“Will I see you in Stats this morning, John?”

 

“No, not today. I’m sorry.”

 

“I’ll tell Montgomery you had an emergency.”

 

“You’re a lifesaver, Eliza.”

 

10:00 – 11:15: Marine Biology

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Still in bed.”

 

“Can I please come over, John? I promise I won’t stay long.”

 

“I’m sorry, Eliza, I really just don’t want anyone coming by today.”

 

 

Which is why he was so perplexed when someone knocked upon his door Thursday evening.

 

He had explicitly requested all of his friends to stay away while he was in this funk. Alex would’ve texted first, Hercules never visits the freshmen dorms, and John made a sport out of avoiding Lafayette. He pondered further. Peggy, perhaps? Maybe she had an EveryHue question? She does live in the building too. Angelica would’ve kicked open the door by now and Eliza seemed adamant in abiding by John’s wishes, even when she complained about missing talking to him in Statistics. His mind drew an absolute blank.

 

Damn the freshman dorm doors, vacant of peepholes. He proceeded to the door slowly and opened the door even slower.

 

“Evening, Jack.”

 

_I told her not to follow._

 

“Leave, Martha.” He didn’t open the door completely yet but her foot was already wedged in, he couldn’t slam it. She weaseled her way in the room, pushing him out of the way and closing the door behind her.

 

“Why? Hiding something from me?” She said the latter sentence in a singsong voice, blissfully ignorant of the stress she was causing John. “It smells awful in here.”

 

“Get out of my goddamn room, Martha.”

 

“Wow, Jack. Strong language. It’s almost like you’re upset I’m here.” She was snooping around. “Almost like you have girlfriend you’re trying to hide from me?”

 

How did she even find his room? Did she look it up? Did she bribe someone? Who would’ve told her? She wasn’t supposed to follow she wasn’t supposed to follow she wasn’t supposed to follow—

 

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” It took him a lot of resilience but he got the curt reply out. His hands were nearly vibrating. He clenched his fists.

 

_Not now, not now._

 

“Oh?” She turned her attention from his room and back to him, her brown bob whipping around her face. She batted her eyelashes at him and stared at his lips with no reservation.

 

His breath hitched. She was close to him, why was she getting closer?

 

_I told her **not to follow.**_

 

She touched his chest, feather light, and grazed it down, stopping over his groin. She had an innocent look upon her face, a faked one meant to be flirtatious, one John knew too well.

 

“So you’re alone? We’re alone?”

 

The room’s spinning, it’s spinning too fast for him to breathe correctly. He can’t get enough air and he can feel it. He can feel himself beginning to tremble.

 

“Don’t tou…” His tongue fails him. He can’t get it out. She has a finger over his mouth to shush him. The body heat radiating off of her finger stings like a poisonous bite. He’s backed against his bed now, somehow she’s led him this way. She partially leaning her weight on him, he can’t escape. He grits his teeth.

 

“I missed you, Jacky. It’s been a long time.” He could feel her breath against his face she was so close. She replaced her finger to his mouth with her own mouth, kissing him tenderly as if they were old lovers reunited after a war.

 

Except they were _not_ old lovers reunited after war, they were two strangers occupying each other’s space. She’s intruding, can’t she feel how out of place this all is? The passion was completely unrequited and, fuck, he tries to push words out, tell her to go away or something, but his tongue is stationary in his mouth now. He’s completely frozen, movement stalled in pure terror. She’s kissing a statue, a literal statue, how can she not understand that he didn’t want this?

 

He slinks down against the bedside suddenly. Still silent, visibly shaking now.

 

“Jack?”

 

She’s looming over her and he’s consumed in her shadow.

 

“Jack!”

 

His ears fail him too now. He’s trying to leave, trying to get far away from this clusterfuck of a situation.

 

He’s back in South Carolina, it’s the summer before he’s going off to college. Working two jobs is hard but, god damn it, he just knows he can make it at King’s College if he can accumulate the funds. The afternoon is hot and unyielding, sun uncaring of how exhausted the work-day’s left him. He’s whistling a cheery tune as he get unlocks the door to his house – it’s large, way above his family’s needs, but it’s a cozy mansion-like thing on the countryside. Who is he to complain?

 

The foyer smells faintly of vanilla and cedar chips. The scent’s pleasant enough, but it’s much too quiet.

 

John rushes upstairs to check the rooms. His siblings aren’t there – its 2:00 pm, Junior’s in summer school, okay, okay. Martha’s probably out with friends, Mary as well. But the door to his parents’ main room is shut.

 

It’s never shut. The two haven’t touched each other in years.

 

John rips the door open after hearing a shrill scream. He’s met with a menacing scene: His loving mother Eleanor, a woman whose voice alone could soothe the cries of the Earth itself, at the feet of Henry Laurens, his booming voice enhanced by the obvious trace of alcohol.

 

Eleanor isn’t his biological mother. John’s birth-mother was presumably a Black Puerto-Rican, one who sang to him in Spanish and he assumed was amazing. John’s young mind didn’t allow him to remember much, but he remembered cowering in fear after one of Henry’s particularly bad nights, spraying whiskey spit over he and his younger siblings, complaining about his mother and something about finding her hanging.

 

Looking down at Eleanor, John could piece the puzzle together quickly. Her dainty face is blemished with a puffy, pink ring surrounding her eye, growing darker with each second she lie on the ground, dark brown hair pooling around her face, the paneling beneath her face hovering over a small puddle of nose blood.

 

As aforementioned, she’s not his biological mother. But she’s everything he needed. She taught the young John – or Jacky to her – French and arithmetic. She encouraged him to write and sing and run and do whatever it was that made the young boy happy. In the dysfunctional Laurens household, Eleanor Ball was the only thing keeping him sane.

 

Today, seeing that thing keeping him sane in shambles on the floor, something in him snaps.

 

He’s walked into this scene (or a variation) many a time, but today’s different somehow. Today John jumps in front of his wounded stepmother and his fist collides with Henry’s face without a word of warning.

 

Eleanor whisper-shouts something akin to _no, Jacky, please don’t,_ but it’s too late. John and Henry are exchanging heavy blows now, and it leads to Henry gripping his son’s throat, shoving him violently to the wall, essentially holding up on it. The three in the room all don matching face markings, John numb to his injuries, burning in pure, white-hot rage.

 

“You’re a fucking abomination, you know that, Jack? You think going to that faggot school is gonna change that? A cute little degree? You’re never going to escape that, son, and –“

 

Henry Laurens drops John and stumbles to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom. As John gasps for air, he hears vomit plummet into toilet water. The heaving’s a disgusting sound, sure, but it’s the only telltale sign that the episode is over, the abuse is over, they’re safe for now.

 

Sure enough, Mr. Laurens is knelt over the toilet, passed out now. Eleanor is on her feet now, unstable and wobbly, but up. She’s looking to John, and he’s shaking, mumbling to himself.

 

“Jack?”

 

 _Oh god,_ he thinks. _Oh god I hit him. I hit him I hit him I fucking hit him oh my god oh my god ohmygod Ihithimandnowhe’sgoingto –_

A scream is heard in the hallway. “Help! Please! Anyone!”

 

Martha’s voice was barely audible over his scattered breathing. John’s completely on the ground now, carpet to his back, only the ceiling in his line of sight. He hated being in his head like that but at least Martha was out of his sight, not touching him anymore, not calling him that _god awful nickname._ The door opens shortly though, and she’s back, with a friend.

 

“John,” Aaron exhales, clearly ripped away from something. He’s only in a black binder and boxers. What was he doing on the upperclassman’s hall?

 

John barely acknowledges Aaron, breathing too heavily and too jittery to respond. Aaron squeezes John’s hand, accidently making contact with the burn marks on his hand. Tears are striping down the sides of his face. Both Aaron and Martha are knelt over him now, Martha keeping her distance.

 

“John, can you count for me? 1 to 10, as fast as you can.” Aaron said calmly, obviously familiar with usual panic attack protocol.

 

“Wait a minute…” Martha says, an irritated look upon her face.

 

“One…” John gulps. He can barely speak. This method’s not helping.

 

“I have all day, John, I’ll wait all day.” Aaron reassures.

 

“T—,” He tries to even his breathing. Aaron looks okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

 

“Who is this?” Martha asks way too loudly.

 

“That’s it, man, just think it out. No rush.”

 

“Is _this_ your girlfriend?”

 

Aaron’s grip on John’s hand tightens. John forgets numerical order completely, forgets where he was.

 

“Thanks for telling me he's like this, but I don't need you here. You should leave. Right now.”

 

“You look like a lesbo,” Martha sneers. “I don’t know what he sees in you.”

 

Aaron uppercuts Martha in the jaw, effectively shutting her up.

 

With Martha out cold, Aaron continues to tend to John, helping him through the sudden stress. John relaxes soon enough when Aaron goes to get his friend who apparently lives on the hall, a senior named Theodosia. The girl wears attire similar to Aaron’s, only a bra and boy-shorts. She helps mollify John’s stirring mind and he’s at peace again. Temporarily, surely, but it’s all over for now.

 

Theodosia places a comatose Martha on the extra bed John has in his room. John climbs into his own and looks to Aaron and his friend. She nervously twirls a dreadlock around her willowy finger. “Interesting way to meet.” She laughs. Her voice is so deep, a maternal deep, the type you’d hear over radio station waves late in the evening. “I’m Theodosia, Aaron’s told me so much about you.”

 

“Nice to meet you.” He extends his left arm, and immediately regrets it. Both Theodosia and Aaron’s eyes go right for the scars, noticing a more recent addition threatening to leak blood down his arm.

 

That’s when Aaron leaves his room in a hurry, despite John’s arguing that he’s fine. Theodosia stays behind and wipes his arm, reminding him that’s it’s going to be okay. It will.

 

It just has to be fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i made john black in my story because fight me.  
> and if this wasn't clear enough, uh, yes, john's biological mother hung herself.
> 
> ...  
> do you think he would listen to kendrick lamar in this au? i do.


	7. intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The EveryHue executive board decides to step in, for the good of the club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: swearing, accidental outing, panicking, references to sexual acts

Study room 136. Lexington library. The clock hands look as if they’re trying to give a wide hug. The small hands’ reaching for the nine, and the larger has just hit the three.

The board all sat in silence around the grey, bland table. No wall decorations but the dull, off-grey, analog clock. No other furniture but chairs, chairs occupied by heavy glares and frowns.

The table was meant to seat six, surely, judging on its size. Three people were supposed to sit on each elongated side. However, this was an “intervention,” as Angelica had put it, and the entirety of EveryHue’s executive board had to be excessively dramatic. Here they were, John and Alex on one side of the table, facing their appointed board: Publicity Chair Hemmings, Vice President Schuyler, Secretary Madison, and Trans Chair Burr.

The two founding members, President Laurens and Treasurer Hamilton, soaked in the embarrassment, a permanent blush seeming to stain their cheeks.

“Boys, boys, boys…” She sighed as if she was disgusted with the word. As if she was constantly getting these two specific boys out of trouble. “It has come to this.”

Alex squirmed, preparing for the inevitable scrutiny.

“I am a firm believer that all issues can be settled by committee.” The secretary stated flatly, barely looking up from his laptop. “So. Let’s talk. We just need to get all this out there. No one leaves until this gets solved. Let’s hurry this up, please, I have better places to be on a Friday night.”

No one spoke. Madison coughed, and that was the most sound from the room for a while.

Sally Hemmings looked almost mesmerized by the keys on her small laptop. Next to her, Aaron Burr was equally quiet, not surprising. He wasn’t really one to instigate or address issues. Hell, he thought EveryHue was the dumbest idea out there before he really befriended Alex. He was originally supportive of the _other_ LGBTQ group on campus, the one their group now exists to subvert, so no one expected him to be the first to speak. He had since discovering John and alerting Alex put on a shirt, thankfully, but the situation was still awkward. If this weren’t strange enough, Aaron tapped away at his phone screen, most likely updating Theodosia on the situation.

Alex felt anger coiling in his colon. He appreciated his friends, he did, but this dilemma wasn’t the place for them to meddle. He didn’t see the need for a meeting. The situation wasn’t even that dire –

He turns to John and realizes his freckled friend had broken the silence, his singed palms exposed. Alex swallowed his pride. Screw that, they needed help. It was obvious that they couldn’t handle the situation alone.

“And that’s it,” John spits. “Are you happy? Jesus, fuck, don’t you think I know this is a bad situation? I don’t need you guys to tell me that! I knew it was bad from the get-go, but it only got worse when I found out this bastard was using me to cheat on Lafayette – “

“Did you not check your text messages?” Alex says, maddened to his core.

“Why would I check them? So I can hear more of your fucking lies?” John slams a fist to the table. Aaron and Sally jump, both making a startled yelp. Madison protectively holds his laptop in place. Angelica leans in, as if she’s watching her favorite TV show.

Alex turned to John and stared at him as if no one else was in the room. “Lafayette texted you from my phone and said – “

“This is worse than the cumshot thing on Eliza’s face!”

“– that they were never dating me – John!”

“What the _shit?_ ” Angelica shouts over them both.

“Guys…we’re in a library,” Aaron warned. He barely looked up from his text messages, just waved a hand, hoping they’d all obey.

 “Wait, you were never dating Laf?”

“Wait, how long have you guys been sleeping together?” Madison asks, suddenly interested.

“Alex and John have been sleeping together?” Aaron just looks happy to finally be included in upperclassmen drama for once. His fingers go flying on his phone.

“Are we going to ignore the thing John said about my sister?”

“Only a few months,”

“John, technically it’s been exactly two months and eight days since…the first time.”

“Oh hush, Angelica, like you haven’t had worse on your face.”

“I just did the math,” Sally laughs from her designated seat. “That’s literally 69 days ago. Oh my god.”

“What is **_that_** supposed to mean, James?”

“You counted the days?” John seems to snap out of his angry haze, looking at Alex as if he’s just seeing his eyes for the first time ever. Alex is relieved to see that sympathetic glint in his friend’s eyes again, the type that drove John to put himself into harm’s way for what he believes in. The type of glint unique in a chosen few, those meant to lead, those meant to be respected and those who eventually make change in the world.

“Well, yeah.” Alex’s hand involuntarily scratches at the hair hugged by his scrunchy, a habit he never truly kicked. It’s an impulse that he did when he was really nervous. “I like to keep track of time and I…you know…”

“You counted the days.” John says it more like a punchline this time, and laughs accordingly. God, Alex’s missed that smile. “Because of course you did. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

“John, I mean what I said, okay? I’ve never dated Lafayette and I’d never date them without telling you. I can understand why you wouldn’t really believe me. I mean, My God, John, look at where we are. We’re in a room talking out our problems because we’ve never really discussed them. We could’ve fixed this forever ago if I would’ve just talked with you. I could’ve told you I wasn’t dating Lafayette, we’re just really affectionate friends. I could’ve told you I’m pretty sure I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to Eliza and that I don’t trust myself in a relationship with you. God damn it all, John, I could’ve told you I’m not perfect, John! I’m not perfect!”

“And neither am I!” He shows his scars to Alex. “Clearly!”

“But you are!” Alex didn’t mean to shout. He never means to shout, he never registers that he’s the one shouting until he’s met with the aftermath. In this instance, John’s staring back at him, wide-eyed, mouth ajar, lips trembling in disbelief. His hands are balled into fists. Alex has his wrists tight in his grip and he can’t bring himself to loosen his hold. He digs trimmed (read: bitten off in anxiety) fingernails into John’s arms and just holds him still in that moment.

“I’d never…forgive myself,” Alex breathes out. “I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you the way I hurt Eliza. I barely forgive myself for that, And I just…” He’s crying, fuck, that’s beautiful. That’s just fucking great.

“Alex—“

“Let me,” A sniffle-snort thing. Ew. “Let me finish. I just can’t bring myself to be with someone as perfect as you, okay? I’m not worthy of your friendship, I’m definitely not worthy to date you.”

“Worthy?” John tugs his arms out of Alex’s grasp. His hands graze past the cuts, and Alex can feel more tears threatening to leak from his eyes. “Alex, do you hear yourself? What kind of early 90’s white rom-com bullshit are you on?”

Another sniffle.

“Neither of us are ‘worthy’ of anything, dude, we’re in college. _Undergraduates_. We’re fuckin’ idiots. And we’re obviously both pretty reckless when it comes to just about everything, how could you think either of us are perfect? And more important, who said you needed to be?”

He didn’t have an answer for John.

“I’m not perfect, and while I’m flattered, Alex, I never will be and I never want you to call me that. Don’t idolize me.” John thumbs the fresh tears from Alex’s eyes. “Alex. Baby girl. Don’t cry.”

“Okay,” Alex chokes out, not heeding John’s advice at all and continuing to cry.

“I really like you, Alex. As you are. Boom, cliché romance novel for 40 year old mothers to masturbate to complete. Movie adaptation, please.”

“You really do use humor to get through things, huh?”

John shrugs. “My thing, I suppose. But I do mean it. If you want to do this, we can do this. No prerequisite needed, no nitpicky requirements.” He scoots closer to Alex. “I want to make this work.”

Alex wipes the remainder of his tears on his shirt and nods as quickly as he can. “I do too. Okay.”

John smiles that cocky, could-blind-anyone smile. “I like this talking thing. It proves effective.”

“Agreed. I will communicate what I want from now on.” Alex mirrors his smile. “Kiss me.”

“Approved.” Their lips join in a kiss. It starts off innocent enough, blush dusting both of their faces. It’s chaste, dainty. A nice punctuation mark for the end of a productive chat. A kiss for the front of a magazine.

But soon the heat became too much for Alex, and he tilted his head to lick upward into John’s mouth, deepening the kiss. They kissed harder because they could, because they didn’t feel ashamed anymore, because it felt _really fucking good to kiss again_.

The chaos around hadn’t stopped, they both noticed once they broke away from each other. Angelica and James were shouting as loud as possible in a library setting, arguing over something sexual. They were too occupied with quarreling to pay attention John and Alex. John got up, whispered something to Sally, shared a giggle with her, and walked right out of the study room door. Alex made his way to Burr. Sure enough, he was texting “<3” again.

“Burr,” Alex whispered.

“Oh.” Aaron, visibly startled, goes from the messaging app to an article already open in his browser on dogs. “Hey, Hamilton.”

“Thank you, Aaron.” Alex actively ignores Aaron’s failing efforts to be clandestine about his seeing Theodosia to continue to ruse, just to humor his friend. His dear, dear, friend. Aaron places his phone on its face down on the table – the first name basis, that’s what got his undivided attention, surely – and looks to Hamilton quizzically, as if he just asked him to put on a pair of soaking wet socks and run in the snow.

“What did I do that you wouldn’t do for me, Hamilton?” He responds. They respectfully shake hands, not quite too comfortable with more obvious affection yet. But make no mistake or misjudgment: he really, really likes that Aaron Burr, Sir.

Alex looks to Sally. She looks so tired. Angelica probably dragged her here on a threat, going on about how it’s their civic duty as EveryHue executive members to be there for a friend in crisis.

“So, do you think it’s fair to say this meeting’s adjourned?” he asks.

“I’d say so. Our president’s flown the coop, my roommate’s got the secretary in a headlock, and lover boy over here hasn’t said much of anything. If you and John are good, I do think Madison said we could leave when this nonsense was solved.”

“I don’t _love_ her, Sally. Assumption isn’t a good color on you,” Burr retorted.

“Who’s using pronouns?” She fired back, not missing a beat. “I didn’t mention any her.”

Alex swore he noticed his friend’s face become just a smidge darker.

 

* * *

 

Alex waited a few hours to see John again. He needed to decompress. Thankfully, Hercules was nowhere to be found. Alex belly-flopped onto his bed, turned off his bedside lamp, and loudly announced to his empty room “I need a short nap.”

* * *

 

“John?” He called when the boy hadn’t answered the door right away. It’s about 1:00 am, yeah, but he knew John wouldn’t be asleep yet. Not after a night like tonight. He heard a muffled “shit,” and a mad-dash for the door.

Enter John. “Hey, Alex. What’s up?”

“I just…hmph.” He didn’t picture himself getting the courage to make it this far. “I wanted to talk? I don’t know. Just…ugh. Can I come in?”

“Sure thing, cutie.” John coos. Alexander follows him, hanging on his pet name. He wasn’t gonna be able to get through this conversation if he kept being so goddamn _adorable._

“Oh, god, are y’all gonna go at it in front of me?” A guest whined from the bed, punctuating her lament with a raspberry. “Please. Leave room for Jesus.”

“I’m a Deist, thank you very much.” Alexander replies, because of course he does. “It’s nice to see you awake, sleeping beauty. How are you feeling?” He waltzed over eggshells through the exchange. After consulting John through text (he finally checked Alexander’s messages when after the meeting!) he gathered that the waitress at Chesapeake Bar was, indeed, John’s dreaded ex from South Carolina. He didn’t really know how to feel about Martha. John made it very clear he didn’t care too much for Martha’s existence. Yet, here she is, in John’s room, _existing._

Aaron wouldn’t tell Alex what happened to Martha. He came into John’s room greeted by his friend swimming in a pond of his tears and he didn’t have time to really consider –

* * *

 

_Holy shit Aaron you did not bring all of them fuck Aaron why’d you bring them shit_

_John it’s okay they’re here to help just please calm down_

_Don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch_

_John holy shit are you okay – fuck look at your hands!! John!!_

_Why did you bring him why did you bring him Alex it’s okay I swear I’m okay I’m just_

_We need to have an intervention this is just ridiculous_

_Angelica go away please its fine Theodosia and Aaron just overreacted it’s_

_FUCK JOHN YOUR ARMS JESUS WHAT DID YOU DO_

_It’s nothing its nothing its nothing_

_We’ll intervene in a few let’s get him bandaged up_

_I don’t need your help I don’t NEED YOUR_

* * *

 

-the red mark on the underside of her pale chin, or the fact that she was even in the room.

“Better.” She held a tea cup, it’s blue, too large for her petite hands. She uses both to bring the liquid in it to her mouth, take a long sip, sit it back on the line where her thighs meet. Her pants have a stain on one leg, looks like mustard. She relaxes further into the groove she’s working into John’s extra bed.

“I told her about a few things. I told her about Aaron and EveryHue and why things got so crazy…I told her the truth about why we broke up and…yeah.” John sat on his own bed, his arm decorated in small bandages. He held his own cup in his hand, similar to Martha’s.

 **Une Fleur** : _cochon, comment allez-vous?? et John??_ im really sorry i couldnt come to the meeting thing i was at a rally tonight and it was planned for months in advance im super sorry

 **Une Fleur** : herc bought you guys #BlackLivesMatter shirts and he says hes sorry too

 

“Huh. It’s almost like talking to people fixes situations or something.” Alex sat next to John with a laugh. John nudged him in the rib.

“Moral of the story, right? Big happy ending, whoop whoop! Roll credits.”

“If only.”

 

 **Hamilton** : You’re not on the exec board, Laf, I wouldn’t expect you to be there.

 **Hamilton** : We’re both fine. I’ll explain more in the morning.

 

“I don’t understand it,” Martha says, clearing her throat. “I really, really don’t. And my mind is kinda swimming right, especially after that dyk– ” A death glare comes from John as he sets down his tea. His eyes are daggers aimed right into her skull. “ _ahem_ – dynamic person you call ‘Aaron’ nearly knocked my brain outta my head,” She sips her tea again, and Alex can see her tongue. It’s pricked, leaking a tiny bit of blood from a tooth shaped indention.

 

 **Une Fleur** : technically it is morning… :/

 

“But I’m gonna try,” She sighs and nods. “I’m gonna try. I should’ve known Ja- _John_ was a homo. No amount of distance would stop any other man, I think. I mean, look at this darling face of mine, ain’t I a doll?”

John almost spit out his tea from holding in such a sharp laugh. Alex, however, nodded in agreement. Even if she was a completely out-of-the-loop, desperate, hopeless romantic in denial, he couldn’t deny she was cute.

“I’m gonna make my way back to my room, my roommate’s probably having a fit.” She set her cup down on John’s nightstand. “Thanks for the talk, John. John. Geez, that’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“Goodnight, Martha. Please text me the next time you plan to make a visit.” He paused. “And remember our agreement.”

“As long as you hold up your end of the deal.” She smiles – it looks genuine, she looks satiated – and she leaves the room.

“Go out with me,” John breathes out as soon as the door shuts. “C’mon, you don’t have many excuses now.”

Alex tenses, still not convinced. “But…But, Eliza – ”

“That’s the past, we discussed this before! I thought we were on the same page!”

“But I can’t just – ”

“God damn it, Alex, Eliza is ace!”

Alex gasps, and John follows suit. John’s hands fly up to cover his mouth, as if he’s attempting to cement a leaky dam shut.

“She’s asexual…”

“Shit. I didn’t….shit.” John curses himself some more under his breath. His hands are balled up into fists, like he needs to punch something. “I didn’t mean to out her like that. I just…God! I get so tired of you treating her like she’s some kind of delicate flower! She’s a goddamn adult like you and me! She was sad when you guys broke up, yeah, sure, but she’s over it now! Hell, she was gonna break up with YOU because she realized she was ace, but she just didn’t know how to tell you!”

Astonishment, yeah, that’s it. Astonishment was plastered on Alex’s face. No lesser word could suffice. The epiphany hit him like a meteor hurling straight into the Earth. He _was_ infantilizing Eliza. He _was_ overthinking.

“She’s asexual.” He said again, this time with more certainty.

“Yeah.” A drained John spoke again. “And while I’m making an ass of myself, she’s not into guys. She’s moved on to more feminine pursuits.”

Ouch. That one stung. It hurt to know that there were things Eliza didn’t feel comfortable talking to Alexander about. It _burned_ knowing she felt more comfortable confiding in _his best friend_. Crush. Fuckbuddy. Occasional partner. Whatever.

“I really…have been up my own ass this whole time, haven’t I?” Alex asks, not looking for an answer. He laughs for the second time that night (morning?? Time isn’t real) and puts an arm around John, who’s blushing like he’s been done-up by a Sephora worker.

“Only the times I haven’t been up there, yeah,” John joins in the mirth, adding a few laughs of his own to drown away the nervous feelings welling up in the confrontation.

“Oh, what are we doing, dear Laurens. This is silly. This is…this is so silly. We’re acting like we did our freshman year.”

“I don’t want go through the trouble of un-repressing that nightmare of a year. God, remember when we met?”

“You looked so lost. Outside Port Authority. You asked me where you could find the subway.”

“And I said which one…oh my God.” John’s hysterical now with embarrassment, laughter muffled by his palms.

“And you said _the one that goes underground_. I’ll never forget that day. That’s how I really knew you were from nowhere around here. That and your freckles.” Alex pokes playfully, softly, at John’s spots. “No New Yorker I know spends enough time outside to amass a collection this large. Like little sun-kisses.”

“You walked me to the station for the 1 Train and realized we were both coming to Kings’. And I remember thinking to myself ‘wow, what a wonderful day to get lost.’ Never thought I’d be so happy to take a Greyhound Bus so far. So glad my dad refused to drive me up here.”

“Even then you had a soft spot for me? My Laurens, you’re such a terrible liar.”

“I might be romanticizin’ it a bit, for the sake of good memories.” The rough pads of his fingers glide over the soft skin of Alex’s neck. It’s gritty, but comforting. Fitting for John. “Maybe to compensate for all the time we wasted not being truthful to each other.”

“Kiss me,” Alex commands.

“Only if we’re a thing now. A real Thing, capital _Tuh._ ” John replies. He draws out the syllable in a comical manner, but Alex can tell he’s vibrating with serious expectancy.

“Yes,” Alex leans into John so that his words are ghosting over his new boyfriend’s lips.

It’s a quick kiss, a goodnight kiss, a please-don’t-pull-any-bullshit-like-that-ever-again kiss. There’s no tongue, no heat, no urgency. They have nothing but time and each other and that’s all that matter. So it’s over quickly, but the lingering looks they give each other afterwards seem to go on for years.

 

 **Une Fleur** : ok fine, i want a full in-detail report promptly at 10 am for brunch

 

“I’ll see you in the morning, John. I really should get some sleep for once.”

“Stay the night. Please. No fucking, nothing like that, I just really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

 

 **Hamilton:** I make no promises.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was that worth the long wait? i hope so.  
> see, i made them happy!  
> this is unbeta'd, un-proofread, and unmistakably gay.  
> wooohooooo time for sleep!!


	8. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The intervention's over, but some loose ends still need to be tied up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: swearing, recreational drug use.
> 
> Dolley is a disabled black woman with chronic pain. She has a wheelchair.
> 
> Catherine is a Black/Palestinian hijabi muslim.
> 
> Only really relevant in the follow up fic, though.

John’s body didn’t care that he fell asleep only a few hours ago, 6:00 means 6:00. And that’s when he woke up. Well, technically 6:02, but he was up nevertheless.

 

Alexander still there, sleeping next to him, breathing heavy but not snoring, on the cusp of it though. John sighed happily. It was nice to see him dormant for once. And clothed.

 

As nice as the sight was, John still has to hold up his end of the deal with Martha.

 

The thought of it loomed over his head. It could wait. Procrastination’s never let him down before.

 

Shaking out of Alex’s hold on him was proving difficult, though. John puts his hand on Alex’s face and shoves at him. Alex lets go of John’s face and winces.

 

“You ass,” came the retort.

 

“Yet here we are, dating.” John says softly with a sweet smile. It feels nice to have something solid like this, something reassuring. He kisses Alex’s forehead, and Alex hums at the contact. “Lock the door when you go, I have business to attend to.”

 

 

 

“Morning, you.” John greets with a singsong voice, a bit too loudly. Eliza’s eyes shut, her nose, crinkling. She wipes the sleep out of her eyes with fervor. The café that sits on the ground floor of Monmouth Student Center is mostly empty, seeing as it’s only 7:15 am.

 

“Remind me again why we decided to meet so early on a Saturday morning? I hate being up this early when I don’t have to be.” She swirls a stirrer in her cup. Tea, maybe. Smells like ginseng and honey.

 

“Remember when you were on orientation council last semester?”

 

“Greeting all of those freshman at, _Geez_ , I don’t even remember how early. I’m never doing that again.”

 

“Yeah, Alex too. He couldn’t stop complaining afterward.”

 

“Funny you mention Hamilton…” She’s stirring her concoction with effort now, looking to the cup as if it’s holding the answers to all of life’s questions. “How’s that working out?” She doesn’t look up from the cup.

 

“Your darling older sister and a few of our other friends convinced us to sort out our differences in unconventional manners,” John says. He’s choosing his words carefully, not wanting to blurt out another secret like he had the night prior. “And things worked out. It’s all good.”

 

“So you’re official?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Oh, thank the good lord above. It was torture having Hamilton always look at me with his guilty, sad, eyes. God. Maybe now the boy will stop being so dramatic.”

 

John laughs. “I doubt it, it’s kind of his thing,” He drums his fingers on the table. “Thanks for this week, Eliza.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean, John.”

 

“For being there for me and stuff. I lash out sometimes and I know it gets hard to deal with.”

 

She puts her hand up, palm facing him, asking him to stop without a world. “Don’t even mention it. You’re my friend. Of course.”

 

“Funny, I’d expect us to have this whole feud, love triangle thing going on, you know?”

 

“We’re adults, who has the time?” She says with a tight smile. Her cheeks redden and her cheekbones nearly cover her deep set eyes, and she looks adorable, almost like a living emoticon. He can’t help but smile back and giggle.

 

The week had been hellish. A fucking _week_ into second semester sophomore year and already he felt like sleeping it off for the remainder of the term.

 

He could deal with it if he continued making friends like Eliza, though, he decided to himself. They continued sipping coffee, Eliza’s cheeks only growing redder as she told John all about her latest venture into the world of lesbian online dating.

 

 

 

Dolley Payne’s apartment is off campus, just as Angelica’s is. Her rooms are a bit bigger, for accessibility. John pouts as he knocks on the door on the first floor. He regrets not seeing her as much as he’s wanted to this year. He opens the door after he hears a loud and affirmative “come in!”

 

“The hell do you want, Laurens?” Dolley just about snarls. She snaps at him as if he’s interrupted something, but he knows he hasn’t. Dolley doesn’t go out too much anymore.

 

John leans down and places a baggie in her lap. The weed inside is already grinded up, because John’s a gentleman, and that’s what gentlemen do, damn it.

 

“Some chronic for your chronic, my dear.”

 

“Ha-ha, very funny.” She picks up the tiny bag, studies the green powdery substance like it’s holding all of life’s secrets. It’s enough to roll quite a few joints. “What’s this for?”

 

“James just told me you were in a lot of pain lately, and I thought I’d help.”

 

She blinks and narrows her eyes. “Smith, Wilson, or Reynolds?”

 

“…Madison.”

 

“I’m calling bullshit on that one. Madison’s always too far up that Thomas guy’s ass constantly to care about me lately. You see it’s called _chronic_ pain. I’m always in pain. What do you want?”

 

“Well, first off, I wanted to know if you were coming to the EveryHue meeting this Tuesday.”

 

“What, are you trying to fill a diversity quota or something? Don’t know any other disabled bitches on campus?”

 

“Dolley…”

 

“I’m sorry, man, it’s just…” Dolley sighs. She gestures towards her purse that’s sitting on the couch. John reaches for it, but she swats his hand away and wheels towards it, getting it herself.

 

She digs through it for a rolling paper and rolls a joint, looking grateful to have something to distract her. “You know I’m gay as hell. You know I love going out. But if _he’s_ gonna be there I don’t really know…”

 

“Do you remember last year, how you’d invite me out everywhere, even though I was just a freshman? We’d go out everywhere. I literally didn’t even know you had a wheelchair until… this time last year, I think.”

 

“Doctor says,” She stops, holds the smoke in her mouth for a second, coughs abruptly. “I shouldn’t do too much of that. Plus that’s when I lived with James. It’s too different now.”

 

John nodded dejectedly. There’s no arguing with Dolley when her mind’s made up, there’s no point in even trying.

 

He hears metal rolling about in her large, designer purse when she throws it back on the couch. Surely a flask in there. He scratches at his head nervously at how insensitive he’s being, forgetting Dolley’s condition.

 

“Well, we’re going to be in Monmouth on Tuesday if you want to come, around 7:00 pm.” Changing the subject can’t hurt. “I really want you to be a part of our group. It’s very up your alley.”

 

She laughs at that, squirms in an odd direction. It looks as if she should be crying out in pain from the way she’s contorted herself. The contrary, it seems. Relief washes over her face and she settles more comfortably in her chair.

 

“I’ll think about it, man.” She hands the blunt to John, and John shrugs. He’s never been the type to refuse a quick smoke before.

 

The toilet flushes around the corner. John turns his head toward the noise and takes a long drag from the joint.

 

“Oh, I thought I heard you yell but I didn’t know we had company,” The girl from the bathroom says softly. She leaves the doorway quickly and clutches at the sides of her hijab to better secure it on her head. “I didn’t know you’d be doing that, either. Sorry, I would’ve left.”

 

“No, John’s leaving soon. It’s alright, Kitty. I should’ve told you,” Dolley says quickly.

 

“Catherine Livingston.  Long time no see.” John says. He blows the smoke pointedly away from Kitty’s direction and waves. She waves back, gentle and leisurely.

 

“Hi, there, John. Haven’t seen you too much in Biology lately. Are you ill?”

 

“Eh, only mentally.” He shrugs and squints hard, a bit of the smoke getting in his eye, drawing tears from his face. “But, what’s new, you know?”

 

She giggles, laugh small, cute, and choppy. “I feel that. How’s Alexander?”

 

“He’s alright.” John gets up from where he was sitting. “You guys should seriously come to EveryHue sometime soon. I gotta go, but you guys know you can always come to see me, right?”

 

Catherine nods more enthusiastically than Dolley does. She nods only when Catherine has been for a good 10 seconds, the action being stirred more from peer pressure than actual belief.

 

Whatever. John can’t make them. He’s done his work. He starts to leave.

 

 “And for the record, Dolley?”

 

“Yeah?” 

                                                                

“James dumped Thomas a while back. You should talk to him sometime, things have changed.”

 

He can’t see her now because he’s turned towards the door so quickly, but he swears he can hear the beginning of a profane word on her lips as he leaves.

 

 

 

Alex locked the door when he had left, and even attempted to fix up John’s room, heavy emphasis on the word attempt. He was never the most organized, and John didn’t mind it. He sat on his own bed and could feel the dip where Alex had been tossing and turning. He grinned for a second and then remembered Martha’s proposition. He sighed. It’s already night. He can’t push it back much anymore.

 

There’s three rings, then a click.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Junior?”

 

“Jack, is that you?”

 

John clenches his fist in anger but talks himself out of a hissy fit. Once the urge to scream fizzles out of his head, he nodded quickly. It’s mostly to psych himself out, of course, he can’t be seen over the phone.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.”

 

“Jack!” Junior nearly squeals. “It’s been so long since you last called!”

 

The regret is already bubbling in his chest, but he squishes it down with a deceptively kind tone. “I know, it has been a while.”

 

The deal wasn’t to have a _conversation_ , on a technicality. Martha had just advised John to call his siblings before the semester was us. She had expressed how desperate they were to hear from him and how little they really knew about their older brother. Obviously, she had said, because they still think Martha and John are an item.

 

But, the more John put up a front with Henry Jr., the more he found it unnecessary to. They talked for two hours at the very least, nothing too horrible coming up in their discussion. Henry barely even mentioned their father save for in passing. He was more focused on how long high school is, how hard high school is, and how horrible high school is. If John were to take a shot every time Henry said “it’s literally so annoying,” he could probably be inebriated enough to sit through a conversation with his entire family.

 

“We miss you,” Junior says once they run out of stuff to say. John resists his impulses telling him to hang up and grits his teeth. “We really miss you. It’s hard around here without you, Jack.”

 

“How hard could it be?” He snaps. He reigns it in, doesn’t mention that his family is wealthier than most or how money makes things a lot easier than they could be. Junior doesn’t deserve that. He never asked for that.

 

“Martha’s never around because she hates dad, and Mary’s crying all the time because she hates dad. I’m usually doing all the chores that the maids don’t do, and with Ma being busy with the new baby and all—”

 

“New baby?”

 

“Jack, you _have_ been pretty distant.” He says with a laugh, as if anything is even remotely comical at the moment.

 

The thought of Eleanor sleeping with his father _again_ was too much. This wasn’t part of the deal. He didn’t have to deal with this. He knows it’s gross, he _knows_ it’s only going to make him upset, but he can’t help imagining the scene. He sees the puffy swollen skin beginning to engulf her eye, and the blood running cold on the ground. He imagines the blood stains seeping into the fabric of the sheets, intermingling with the scent of whiskey spit and dusty musk. He can feel Henry’s boa-like grip around his windpipe, the odor from their interaction being the last thing he remembers before things go black, his stepmother’s sad, heavy-lidded eyes drooping shut as Henry whispers it into both of their ears.

 

_You’re a fucking abomination._

 

“Look, I’ll talk to you some other day. I have some stuff to do.”

 

“Jack, please, don’t block this number, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow after church, okay?” He sounds panicked, but it couldn’t possibly register compared to how John feels. He can’t be bothered to consider anyone named Henry right now. It’s John’s mind in jeopardy right now, and that’s the only one he can really control.

 

“I have stuff to do,” He repeats, and hangs up.

 

No goodbyes, no declarations of love.

 

The number is blocked again by the time he puts his head to his pillow to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know that john canonically has bpd and i don't care what you have to say about it

**Author's Note:**

> hamilton sideblog: stonerjohnlaurens.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @gayjohnlaurens


End file.
